There was White
by colbub
Summary: All she had to do was find this old blonde guy to save her mother and right the balance. Easy. Marlon should have known better though. Interdimensional traveller or not, she was not looking forward to the price it took for one person to become great enough to challenge the world. Some prices are physical. Others are not.
1. Eternity

I didn't so much die as (kind of) start existing somewhere else.

Confused? Yeah, me too.

The last memory I had was my whole _entire_ life – there wasn't even a definite _end_ anywhere. It wasn't something convenient like, for example, I was shopping at the grocery store and inspecting the grapes before suddenly a black portal sucked me through Shoujo anime style, where a hot guy waited for me on the other side with dashing sword super-powers being like 'YOU'RE THE CHOSEN ONE'. In addition to that, there might even be a neat prophecy detailing exactly what you have to do to, to boot. Kind of like, 'yeah, this is your place in the world, you're needed.'

That'd be so nice, but… nope, none of that. Life wasn't so kind to point out helpfully and say, 'ah, so that's where my memories end, and so this is where I should start now'.

When I thought back, I couldn't remember anything but little bits and pieces of myself, in general. Like the fact I liked the colour green. I had two older brothers (twins, and they were horrible and family all at once), and a dad, and an uncle, and an aunt, and… well, family. We lived in a house that, for the majority of the year, had snow on it. I hated celery. Loved cheese and broccoli, but not mixed together. My brothers were in their twenties, if I thought hard about the memory where they looked the oldest, and thus I should be younger than that.

These memories, of course, weren't very useful to explaining where I was _now_.

Because, when I looked around this place, this wasn't Earth anymore.

All around me, everything stretched into infinite white. There was a kind of fuzzy outline of a might-be-horizon that looked grey and slightly pixelated. The only thing here that was remotely coloured was me, and all I wore was a white shirt and shorts combo. There was nothing to indicate I was any sort of 'needed' - I felt more like an outsider, with me being skin-coloured and all.

I examined the endlessness of the white again, for lack of anything else to do.

...Yeah, this wasn't normal Earth landscape, for sure.

And instead of a really super handsome shoujo hero that would be _really helpful at this point_ , (I'd take any sort of human being to talk with right now), I had this vaguely creepy blank white person-thing with huge, smiley teeth staring at me when I turned around.

"…Hi?" I ventured, because relationships had to start somewhere, even with creepy, alien things. It pays to be polite!

"Not your time yet, Marlon," he (she? they?) said with a voice that sounded more like a really monotone choir of voices – thousands and thousands of people talking in one, with maybe whale-noises in the background. And you wouldn't suspect it, but he spoke with this oppressive aura that screamed to me _run, run, run, this isn't where you're supposed to be you shouldn't be talking with this thing_. It looked like a cute white blob thing, but when it smiled…

Dear lord, those teeth.

I didn't get to run though, because in the second it took for me to lock up my muscles and even _think_ about sprinting in the opposite direction, he had disappeared.

After a few seconds, I scratched my head.

"What just happened?"

The only answer was my own breathing, because people didn't really appreciate how loud and raspy airflow is when it cycles through your lungs when there weren't other noises to distract you. It didn't help, of course, when you felt like you haven't drank anything in forever.

Ugh. Water. Will I die here without it?

* * *

 _An Interminably Long Time Later_

I wasn't dead yet, and the weird white alien-boy thing checked up on me, from time to time. I stopped trying to run away by the fifteenth time he popped up, and since the number of visits must have gone up to the hundreds or so, I felt like I've been waiting here for a long time? Whenever I asked why I was here though, the boy-thing (the bastard), would just smile.

"Ah, ah, ah, it's not time yet, Marlon."

They would even waggle a finger at me, grinning this grin that would show like, at least fifty teeth, and the blank space where eyes were supposed to be would wrinkle – not in the way that paper or skin wrinkled, but like, how jelly wrinkles if it's not broken. Squashed wrinkles.

Yeah. Boy thing was _so creepy_ , you had no idea. I wished he would just stop showing his teeth. That white was unnatural, in a place lacking in dental care facilities.

I stopped being bothered to be angry at him around the fiftieth visit. This boy-thing was like, omnipotent or something, because I swear it could read my thoughts before I even spoke them.

I guess it's nice he had the basic manners to let me speak out loud before continuing the conversation.

Maybe it's just him being polite though, or maybe he's like _me_ , summoned here only to become so mad from solitary confinement that he found a tub of whatever they dipped the landscape with and turned himself into a white blob!

Nah. Can't be. He's _waaay_ too inhuman for that. Maybe he's God. Maybe I'm dead.

I missed my dog. He was called Happy, and he loved rubbing against everything as if he was faking to be a cat, but without all the sinuous back-bendy-ness of a real cat but more like 'let's shed as much fur as possible on everything so the vacuum cleaner will clog every two seconds'. Hugging him was like hugging a living furnace.

But my dog wasn't there, so I lied down instead and started staring into the eternity (that is literally the ceiling of this place and nothing poetic). I was so bored I started rolling sideways, like you would if you were lying on a blanket and tried to wrap yourself into a burrito. Only this blanket was as long as this place (that is, of course, as long as eternity), and so I rolled and rolled and rolled to the right. Usually I get really dizzy really easily, so after rolling once or twice, I would stop.

Only… I didn't get dizzy.

If God was the white thing, did that mean I really was _actually_ dead?

I stopped rolling and stayed flopped on my stomach, running a confused inventory over my memories again, as much as I could – Danny and Leo arguing whose turn it was to wash the dishes, and me just smirking at my brothers while I ran up the stairs, Da and my uncle going over their compositions next to the piano…

Gosh, I even remembered what type of milk everyone drank (soy for Da, lactose free for Danny, full-cream for Leo, organic for Auntie Kamini and Uncle, and me who didn't care much as long as I could add chocolate powder into it), and if I had died somehow, I surely didn't remember it. For one, I don't exactly… feel dead. Not that I had to eat or anything, but yeah, dead things can't think, right?

But I looked at my elbow, where I'd fallen over when I was nine or so and broke my arm so bad that it had left this huge scar that was amazingly shiny in the right lighting. However, it wasn't there. My shins were also unscabbyfied. I didn't get dizzy.

Hmm.

If I was alive, this was… probably not my body.

If I was dead, the afterlife is ridiculously empty and I want to quit.

(both ways, it was pretty horrifying)

* * *

 _An Interminably Long Time Later x2_

"So, Marlon," Truth drawled, because the stupid humanoid finally told me what it was five visits ago (i.e. at least 200 visits too late), "don't you realise something is missing from your memories?"

"You mean," I drawled back, my eyes staring back him as intently as he'd always stared at me because _he was something to look at_ dammit, and this just meant he was eyecandy. If only he'd get some skin. And eyes. And a nose. Then he'd be better graded eyecandy. "You mean that moment when I was kidnapped and dragged here? Sure, man, I'll happily hear what you have to say. I want to know why I'm here desperately, as you might have noticed."

"Ah, ah, ah, it's not time yet for that," Truth just said with the annoying finger wiggle, unperturbed and smiling. "No, something else. Don't you think something is missing?"

I frowned at him, but gave up on the 'no time for that' stuff because I had tried to crack him about that for at least twenty visits straight and Truth was stubborn the way nothing could argue against. How did you argue against pure, stubborn, 'No'?

"Something?" I mused, scanning over my memories again, an act that had become so intrinsically familiar by now. What else was there to do, when you were placed in solitary confinement with the embodiment of Truth? "No, not really."

" _Someone_ , then?" Truth asked, ever pleasant.

I scanned my memories again, getting a little paranoid now, because did he mess with my memories or something? Danny, Leo, Da, and Uncle and Auntie were the few things keeping me sane here. If he'd messed with them, even if he was some type of God (I remembered his ridiculous spiel of Truth and God and you and me stuff, and it flew over my head really), I would _maul him_. I could do some decent eyehooks with my fingers, even though… Truth didn't have eyes.

I readied my hands into mouth hooks instead. My fingers were very strong and mauly when I wanted them to be. I'd tear those teeth out of his head.

"Who did you mess with," I asked, scowling at him.

Truth was as smiley as ever. Stupid teeth.

"Who else?" And Truth leaned in, his face ridiculously close all of a sudden, only a few inches from my face. "Of course I meant your _mother_."

Then he vanished, and I was left clawing the air.

Because it was true. It was very, very true.

Before Truth mentioned it, I didn't even notice. Now, it was this huge, gaping hole in most of my memories of home. _Ma._

 _Ma._

I had a mother? No, of _course_ I had one.

 _Ma._

I searched, I turned each of them over, I rehashed all the times where it seemed like I was talking to myself in the kitchen, but had been given more weight now (because there was someone there, wasn't there?)

 _Ma._

I searched, but there was nothing there. I punched the ground, and instantly regretted my moment of fake macho-ness. Floor. Wimpy, flesh knuckles. Note to self: they don't mix.

So I did the logical thing and curled up around it. Bawled my head off. It wasn't as if there was anyone to watch anyway, and if Truth was watching, well maybe this would guilt-trip him.

Stupid pain. Stupid floor.

Stupid Truth.

* * *

Truth would say nothing about my mother, nothing about the 'right time', but he stayed around more after that. He, as unwillingly as I let him, became my closest confidante, my closest friend in this white, bright place. I slowly understood his quirks (though still waay in the dark as to _why_ he had such quirks), and the surprising bursts of knowledge that would enter my head every time he touched my arm.

Yeah. I was so desperate that I let creepy Truth touch my _arm_.

The lows I have fallen!

To distract myself from Truth's creepy-factor, I puzzled through the information that he sent to me. Though, to be honest, the knowledge he gave me didn't make much sense though.

When I asked him about it, he wasn't even sketchy, he just said something vague about 'it's a price to restore balance' and the second time saying 'this has been paid for you,' but the more I understood about the weird physics (alchemy) knowledge he was putting in my brain, the more I was apprehensive.

I understood things – stuff like, you know, apparently there's a universe out there that has earth energy, and people with intense IQ can tap into it and change stuff. Transmute. Magic? Anyway, I understood that. The thing I was worried about was Equivalent Exchange.

"Who is paying for this for me?" I asked. "Because I distinctly remember that my world doesn't have this magic stuff. Our science is electrical machinery, not mystical 'tapping into the natural energy of the world' and all that energy tectonic plate ley line stuff."

"Who is paying for you?" Truth parroted, tapping his chin mockingly. He was a bastard like that. "If you want to be technical, the universe," Truth said, as monotone chorus-like as usual. His smile was still mega-watt blinding. "It's trying to compensate for pulling another person from another universe. Specifically, it's the person who summoned you – they paid a price to direct how the universe would pay the 'cost'. So instead of taking your spinal cord and two legs, I took something else in exchange."

"…What did you take from me?"

Truth's smile never dimmed, but when he raised his hand, there was some white stringy stuff in his palm.

"Why, didn't I already tell you? These are the neurons that made up the semantic networks that once linked to your concept of 'mother'."

It took me half a second to process that, but even less for me to lunge at him this time.

I wanted to grab the stuff in his palm for myself back, to stuff them back in my head somehow, but he vanished.

Dammit. I frowned at my toes.

Because as much as he was my greatest friend here, he was also my worst enemy, and I never, _never_ , forgot that.

* * *

"The 'them' you referred to, that paid my price. They were my mother, right?" That was the first thing I asked when Truth reappeared. My eyes tracked him again, because I was _angry_ , and I wanted him to know. "There's no reason why you would only take my memories of my mother. She paid a price, and that price was for me to forget her."

"Yes," Truth merely replied, playful smile on his face. "She loves you very much. It was appropriate."

I bit my lip to stop from screaming. After I had calmed, I continued my deductions.

"She went to that place you're giving me information on, somehow. That place with all the strange magic alchemy stuff. Since I'm here," I waved around this stupid, disgusting, _white_ place, "summoning people from another universe is possible. It happened to her."

Truth smiled like me figuring stuff out was somehow delightful. I groused in my head, because It just felt patronising, frankly. I wish Truth was nicer (but that was folly – Truth is a bludgeon at worst, and revelationary at best. It was never quite _gentle_ ), and that he would be less shady and just tell me stuff.

"Since it seems to need a really big cost, that person summoning Ma must have been desperate."

Truth nodded, "Kind of, some details are off, but continue."

"If they were desperate, they must have thought my mother had something they didn't." I paused, but Truth didn't answer, so I continued. "But after something or another, my… my mother summoned me."

"Not really," Truth objected, because he was that type of person who couldn't ever let something 'not-truthful' uncorrected. It was what I had been bargaining on – his smart aleck last-word ways. "She didn't mean to summon you; she was horrified when she realised she got you."

I tilted my head, urging Truth to continue. Please. Don't shut that mouth and say something cryptic again. Dumbledore died for a reason. Communication was key.

"The first person who summoned your mother was… _is_ , something unnatural. They created a situation where they used your mother's status as someone outside the boundaries of the world I've given you information on. In an act of desperation, your mother used all her knowledge and summoned someone else, and it latched onto the person closest to her."

I remembered the bunch of strings in Truth's palm, but stayed silent, because I hadn't got anything to exchange it for. Besides, he was talking. I needed to listen.

"That unnatural thing… I need to hunt them down, but I have no true influence in the corporeal plane. I hijacked the process of your summoning, because you're uniquely suitable for my purposes – and thus I also have to pay part of the price, along with your mother. As I am Truth, you get the truth, knowledge." Truth's eyes jelly-wrinkled around the edges, looking unnatural and smooth and stiff, teeth still gleaming. "I am bound by the rules of the universe just as much as any other, as much as I am omniscient."

He leaned forward again, and his hand touched mine – and I suddenly knew a heck lot about hydrogen, mercury, and the workings of UV. I blinked it away, wondering, wait a second. So mum summoned me (to do something?) and paid the price for disturbing the universe or something. Then Truth hijacked that purpose and (did what?) so he has to… pay a price too?

"You paid a price with my mother?" I repeated blankly, because one, he was one creepy bastard, and I hadn't expected him to play by rules. I blame the lack of eyes. Makes anyone look suspicious.

…But maybe not really? The person in charge of laying the rules had to follow them too.

"Thus, you have quite a few things to do, when I send you down there. I've paid a price after all, so you have to do it. If you don't… there will be ramifications."

He touched my hand again, and the relationship between the four elements was jammed into my brain.

"When is that?"

"When I've paid enough for the exchange, Marlon. Soon enough."

"…Was that the whole truth of the situation?"

Truth smiled, creepy-ass thing.

"No, not really."

* * *

The next time Truth appeared, a door appeared beside him also. It was an ornate, engraved door filled with Latin and tree branches and alchemy stuff that I could actually appreciate. The door had a basic explanation for life – flow, God, and Lion King style Circle of Life sermons.

"We have a guest coming," Truth merely said, beckoning a finger towards the door. Inside, all these long black things writhed, before a few hands pushed a glowing, rice-milk coloured thing towards us. It was a bright blob of something cute and small, and when I cupped it in my hands, it felt _warm_.

Well, since I came into this horrendous, nightmare place, I hadn't felt much heat, or cold, or anything at all. I felt so moved I felt like I could cry.

Wait no, I _was_ crying. Bluh, I hated being a crybaby. Tears spurted out my eyeballs without permission all the time. It was hard to exist without tissues. That tissue-angst was real.

"Hello," I whispered to it. "Hello. Hello, hello, hello."

The warm blob had a small awareness, something tired and painful and young all at once. When I cradled it in my palms, it nuzzled into it with a small greeting of its own.

Something that was sentient that wasn't Truth! I hugged it even closer – it was small, and cute, and cuddly – the complete opposite of seeing an _eternity_ of Truth's rack of creep teeth.

"That," Truth said, butting into my moment like the tactless sledgehammer he was, "is the soul of little Marlon Crawford. She's nearly three years old, and died of lung infection half a minute ago. She is a convenient piece for our purposes," he continued, "because part of your mother's price for you was Identity."

I felt slightly horrified, hugging this baby-soul to my chest; all sleepy and warm and relieved that the pain was over.

"She was born so I could go _possess_ her?"

"No," Truth immediately refuted. "She was fated to die two months before her third birthday. Born premature, she had weak lungs. Getting sick, then getting infection, was something that was supposed to be."

"But human transmutation is wrong," I pointed out to Truth, using my knowledge, because death was part of the natural flow of life. Alchemy used flow – it didn't subvert it. Life lead to death, which flowed to something else. Wasn't I dead?

Truth looked bemused, as much as Truth could look.

"Yes. But there is a difference. One, you are not dead, thus it isn't refuting the law of Death," and I blinked in shock at that information, "and two, because you are not a part of the fabric of this world. Putting a live soul into the vessel of a body is not impossible, though granted, the body is not usually a corpse."

I heard all that, and in my hands, baby-soul heard it too.

"Is that alright, dear one?" I said to it softly. "Can I use your body?"

Baby-soul, Marlon Crawford who shared my first name like a cosmic joke, jumped out of my hands and became a faint shimmering shadow of a thin toddler, black haired and green eyed, whose smile detracted from how skeletal and sick she looked.

"I don't mind!" She chirped, surprisingly articulate. "I'll be happy actually, because that means Daddy won't be alone now. I'm all he has left, see?" She said, babbling happily. Truth's smile was somehow different when he looked at her, and when he touched her, she started filling up like the happy, healthy child she was supposed to be. "I'll even watch over you, if you take care of Daddy for me!"

I knelt down, staring at the colour of her eyes. Leaf green, spinach green. Lime green was closer. Or maybe fresh moss. "Of course. I'll be the best daughter ever. Since I'm occupying your body, can I say you're my sister? I've always wanted a little sister."

She giggled, a small, childish, happy thing.

"Sure!" She tried to throw her arms around me, but they went straight through. "Oh." Her face fell, and I started making silly faces to get her smiling again. I was up to the one where I stuck fingers up my nose when she interrupted.

"You _promise_ you'll take care of Daddy?"

"I promise," I said solemnly. She smiled again, and I was starting a grin when Truth interjected (did he sound slightly amused?). "It is time now. I will give you your task. Fate flows as she wills, and she will automatically correct her course if you deal with the mess your mother made. I am Truth, I am retrospective, and I cannot see the future, only infer, but if you do this task, the future should be whole again."

Truth's hand touched mine, and a searing amount of knowledge was pushed into my brain, so much that my eyes started watering as my brain tried to catch up. It was something about an ancient civilisation. A woman, my mother, arriving there. Something, something?

"Go, now." And with a surprisingly gentle push, I fell backwards through the door into the grasp of those thousands and thousands of creepy black hands.

The next thing I felt was searing, searing pain in the chest. It was also excessively hard to breathe, a problem I'd never had barring intense physical exercise. When I tried to breathe out, phlegmy wet filmy stuff rattled, feeling disgustingly squishy in my throat.

No wonder baby-Marlon felt looked so happy escaping this.

"Stabilising…miraculous recovery…will need further supervision for…"

Words babbled around my head, and with tremendous effort, I lifted my eyelids that felt as heavy as huge lead wrecking balls and focused on the room around me. The first thing I saw was blue. An intense shade of blue, in a marginally handsome, worn face. And according to the small amount of memories Marlon Junior had (entirely too much of staring at hospital walls), this was my new father, who started sporting a huge, wobbly, relieved grin when he saw me open my eyes.

Blue. The first _real_ colour I've seen since Truth.

Well. Screw green. Blue was my new favourite colour.

* * *

 **I feel like I saw this every time I start a new story, but this is my first FMA story, so please be nice? XD I'll try my best to get to the main chara's soon, and hopefully everything made some sort of sense. If you enjoyed, please review! Thank you very much. ^^**


	2. Settling

Truth had sent a last burst of knowledge in my head when he'd pushed me into the door and into mini-Marlon's body. But what it actually _was_ wasn't very clear – there was just too much of it, you know? I got a lot of images that looked like ancient Roman civilisation, and like, this apocalyptic burst of light, and pictures of some pair of twins that were fair-featured and blonde that were actually pretty darn handsome. My mother was summoned (somehow), and lots of talking happened then, well.

My brain hurt to think about it, literal _pain_ when I do, but something happened, something horrible, and my mother was trapped _inside_ one of them.

Because souls could be trapped in other things in this dimension. I mean, wasn't I living proof?

However, my mother's existence itself unbalanced the world; unlike me, who she'd paid a price to tether me into someone here to give me at least half-legitimacy, she was totally alien. Something about incompatible energies. She operated on a soul-length different from all others in this universe, and souls are incomparable sources of energy because they are the embodiment of Will itself.

And alchemy, if you want to know, was exponentially more powerful the more Will was involved. It was just one of the elements, you know?

So… basically, my mother could operate as a really strong source of energy, with only some stuff needed to recharge her once in a while. Which was. Concerning. Because one of those blonde men had a God-complex?

I mean, I saw this guy laughing and the twins breaking off after a disagreement, and some other confusing things with a white-toga and God symbolism so… I think he's a guy with a God complex. The other twin looked nicer, but he just wandered a whole lot before the truth about them became really jumbled and I gave up.

Thinking about my task, well. Megalomaniac God complexes though. I kind of wished I was going against something… less. Just less, please. Corrupt governments were everywhere, right? Why an ancient, seemingly immortal, powerful, psychopath?

Anyway, Truth was concerned with case because mother was a violation of the natural laws by her very existence, which Truth is very, _very_ against. Her soul just wasn't meant to belong here, and souls are delicate, delicate things. The soul of an animal is different to a soul of a human, and the soul of a human from another world would be different to a person from here. It's just the way of life and things, Truth once told me. Everything has its place, in the equilibrium of each universe. If one steps outside its boundaries, the consequences were too immense to be imagined.

That guy was all about 'world balance' and 'following the right path' and stuff.

By moulding my soul into mini-Marlon's body, my soul's energy adapted a little into something that Truth could accept. But my mother was a living philosopher's stone without much augmentation at all. And the people who summoned her knew it, used her, and trapped her. Somewhere. Truth hadn't conveniently _told_ me anything, because I think the method the blonde dude used to hide from Truth he also used to cover my mother.

I was supposed to send her back to Truth so that he could do Truth-y things and right the balance or whatever.

…Ha, easy enough, right?

Yeah. So easy.

I can definitely do this. Free my previous life's mother (who I don't remember anything of) from eternal slavery from a megalomaniac? Pshhh, that's just—

Who was I kidding. This was going to be disastrous.

* * *

The small patch of my back that met the hospital mattress was _warmth_. The slide of skin as I touched the plastic of my IV was _slightly sweat-sticky_. The dry rasps of air that flowed from the corridor was _cool_ and my general state of being was _miserable and delirious_ (probably), but really, I didn't care. It wasn't miserable at all, to feel the itchiness that only came from lying on a sweaty cloth for too long. It was great, in fact. It was wonderful! I was itchy!

While I was revelling in all these nostalgic and new sensations like, ' _ooooh, the sound of raaaaain_ ', the doctors all fussed over my unexpected and miraculous recovery.

"To be honest," a doctor had murmured outside the door once to my new dad when I was feigning sleep, revelling in the sensation of _darkness_ and night-time noises like… factories and smoke and not really night-time noises really, "I thought we lost her a few times there… but your daughter is stronger than she looks."

And there the doctor and my dad presumably, by the shape of their shadows, leaned over to peek at mini-Marlon's body (which looked exceedingly pitiful and sick-thin by the way, the one time I saw a glimpse of her face in the window) and probably nodded to themselves in agreement.

"She's a fighter, just like her mother," my dad murmured fondly, his voice just naturally low.

Talking about my new dad, he was incredibly gentle with me, even though the lines on his face leaned towards 'stern' than 'smiles'. Alain Crawford was younger than I expected, as he looked around his late twenties, with light brown hair that was remarkably thick, and one of those drooping solemn mouths. His countenance was unremarkable really, and he liked wearing ancient looking glasses that were polished to perfection.

His bearing was military straight though – but I already knew why from his blue military uniform when he visited after his hours at work, the uniform looking vaguely familiar to me somehow. His smile was unassuming, but very, very warm when he looked at me, but overall, nothing would've pinned him as anything but a normal paper pusher if you never looked at his eyes.

His _eyes_. New-dad was a real big sweetheart with the most stunning blue eyes I have ever seen in any person, vague pre-world memories or no. Frankly speaking, if I didn't know that this world hadn't invented cosmetics to the point that they had contacts, I would have thought he put on dazzling blue sapphire coloured irises every day to, I don't know, dazzle-fy his subordinates to do his bidding.

Because behind his wire-rimmed spectacles, they burned with this, I don't know how to describe it, fierce intelligence, or this driving will, or determination, or _something_ that made his whole face light up from within. It was this brilliant light that was highlighted by how sharp his gaze was when he gazed out my window while I slowly fell asleep, a tiny frown always between his eyebrows.

And then I got all that burning, fierce fire in new-dad's being to do things like this.

"Daddy," I whispered excitedly, waving the arm without the IVs as much as I could for him to bend down, finally allowed to take off my oxygen mask after a few weeks of recovery. It was still there though, because my case was extremely tentative. I didn't like it, because it made sleeping awkward. "Daddy, c'mere," and then I wiggled in excitement. He put down his work report down with an amused smile and scooted his cushy chair over.

According to the most gossipy nurse I had, my info-tower Nurse Gloria (who sighed over my new-dad way too much for me to be comfortable) said that only I had such a cushy chair in my room, and heavily implied that it was because of my father's 'status'.

Well, new-dad did have a few more medals on his chest than I would normally expect with his age.

"What is it, Marlon?" He asked, glancing down at the picture book in my lap—and thank goodness Amestris spoke English, because if they didn't I would probably have raged and became a horrible monster of a child as I slogged _again_ through the foreign grammar—before he gave me a smile. "Is there a word you don't know?"

And yes, because I was technically a child, I pointed to a word on a page that was rather long, and with absolutely no shame, hammed up my cute child act.

"Floppy was very b, b, b, buhteef?"

On the page itself was a marvellously fluffy bunny drawn with fabulous lipstick, sauntering down the street with these huge lashes and an awesome cartoon sparkle next to its ear. All these other animals on the streets were gawking at the bunny with love-heart eyes.

Such fashion. Such gorgeousness.

I love picture books.

"Beautiful," Alain said with his soft voice, a comforting deep lilt to it that I always relaxed to, partly because it was the exact opposite of the all-encompassing choir of Truth. "B-E-A," he spelt out for me, carefully holding my tiny hand so we traced the word together, "U-T-I, come on Marlon, join me for the last few," and so my feathery voice joined in for the "F-U-L."

Then we paused, and I took the time to play with his fingers as he struggled to explain 'beautiful' to me.

"Beautiful means a high… standard. Pleasing to the eye. More than pretty. A good form. Do you understand what I mean, Marlon?"

Another thing about new-dad Alain. He didn't know how to talk to children. At all. He usually tended to use bigger words than he should.

Thank goodness I wasn't actually a child. When I look at mini-Marlon's sparse collection of memories though, it seemed a little obvious she wasn't normal too – in fact, she was remarkably smart. Way smarter than me when I was a toddler.

And now I'm sad she's gone again. I've got to cheer myself up.

"Yes, I understand. Daddy?"

"Hmm?" Alain's attention had never wavered from me back to his (obviously more important) business with his folios and notes, busy flipping the page for me to a picture of Floppy the bunny twirling in a pretty blue dress in front of a mirror.

I controlled my mischievousness as much as I could.

"Can you do a bunny impression for me?"

The best thing with new-dad's awkwardness for children was that he didn't even bat an eyelash at my impressive use of vocabulary as a seeming toddler. I mean, he didn't even notice _now,_ he just visibly stilled, before his confusion turned into sheepish fluster as he fidgeted, glancing to the side of the room.

"Darling," he said, smoothing the page down, "daddy doesn't know how to do bunny impressions."

And the cutest thing was, he actually looked slightly upset that he didn't know how. I drew myself up as impetuously as I could, and with a small impish smile on my face, I pointed out, "But daddy, have you ever _tried?_ "

Alain's face turned a little chagrined. "Just like your mother," he said wistfully, stroking my hair a little before giving me a side-eye. "Did you learn to talk like that from Nurse Joy?"

Nurse Joy was the head nurse in this hospital ward, and was the most in-control, accomplished career woman I've ever seen. Brisk, efficient, and had a weird soft-spot for me. I'd just recently found out that I was in a military hospital though, so it was probably because they didn't usually house children here? Maybe my age was just naturally doing all the charming work for me?

"Yeah! I want a bunny impression!"

And so he did an extremely awkward but sincere bunny impression just for me, and I laughed until I needed my oxygen mask.

"Okay that's enough now, Marlon," he said quietly, switching off my room's light so that only the dimmed lights of the corridor streamed through. "It's time for you to sleep."

"But, but I didn't get to talk to you much today!" I protested, even as he settled the mask on my face (looking on the bright side, at least they weren't those nose-tubey things I seemed to see on the other adult patients sometimes). Part of his chin got obscured by the clear plastic and I had to tilt my head to give him my Big Eyes of Extreme Guilt-tripping.

"No, you need your sleep," Alain just replied mildly, covering me with sheets carefully and checking all the machines that he'd learnt to read. When everything was right and he'd called a nurse to double-check his work, I was marginally more comfortable than before. Watching them fuss over me was therapeutic, in a way. I was still watching, when the dark of the night seeped into the corners of the room as Alain switched on a small lamp to the side and continued to do work at my bedside.

Then it was quiet except for the quiet sound of footsteps in the corridor, the flick of pages as they turned, and the odd carriage on the street carrying a late worker back home.

People would normally complain about hospital stays, I guess, because it's a whole lot of lying there and staring at walls, or the stuff people left behind for you.

After Truth... To me, it was just right.

When I woke up, it was morning and Alain had gone already, since he had some type of military-government job that started early and ended relatively late. He still made sure to visit whenever his work finished though, staying at least a few hours. I've never been awake to know when he left though. Mini-Marlon's dad was really dedicated to his daughter, I mused, staring at his seat. Even after a few months of visiting every single day, his every action still conveyed his relief that I was here, alive with him.

The morning crept in as I burrowed into my thoughts, and slowly the world came to life. The low chug of the street, greetings as hospital staff switched shifts.

Sometimes I wondered how I would have reacted, being thrown from a soundless, empty world into one with colour and dimension like this without the hospital's genial, slow routine, before I discarded it because _what-ifs_ went nowhere.

"Morning Marlon!" Nurse Gloria greeted as she hurried into the room with breakfast, carefully checking and swapping bags of who-knows-what around and doing machine stuff as I looked at the breakfast, mostly soft mushy stuff. "How are you feeling today?"

"Good!" I chirped back, as she adjusted the bed so I sat up without much struggle. "How are you, Miss Gloria?"

She gave me an affectionate look, patting the thin hair on my head as she moved towards the trolley and efficiently handled wheeling the food towards me on the bed-tray, and settled it comfortably for me. "Always so polite, Marlon! I'm good too, thank you for asking. I can't stay today, because Nana, you know Nana? Well, she's off-shift today, and I have to work double! Just leave the food and push the tray out of the way when you're done, okay? I'll be back soon!"

Usually, I think policy for toddlers eating and doing stuff was stricter than this, but either this world was more trusting of children (doubtful, because on Saturday and Sunday dad, Alain-dad, stayed all day, and he helped me with all the food and everything), or because this was a military hospital and they usually didn't hold children.

I think my admittance came from some sort of emergency thing where they only had certain machines here, and this small piece of law that let my dad ship family members in here too so. There was a doctor here that coincidentally knew paediatrics, so. I was lucky. A very lucky exception.

Eating the mush, pleasantly bland (I'd learnt on my first few weeks here that my time in the white world had made any type of surprise very bad for my health), I'd only just gotten to the apple-mush (dessert) when some nurse gossip floated to me.

"The war you know… worse," someone said, and I perked my ears out.

"What, you mean Nana's fiancé actually got killed? She wasn't just flunking out on her shift this time?"

The reply came from a nurse I recognised – Nurse Rebecca couldn't whisper for her life, had a hooked nose, but wore the brightest smile I've seen.

"It wasn't Ishval this time," I caught now from the other voice now that I was focusing as hard as I could, "I know the Ishval war is taking priority right now, but it only started last year after all. It was the Aerugo border, died from an ambush."

"That's so horrible!" Rebecca gushed. "How is Nana then? Do you think she'll continue nursing? She did say that she did nursing because it felt like she was helping her fiancé in the war…"

They'd trailed off, and I mentally updated the little map of Amestrian context in my head and ticked them off my fingers.

First. The sky was so smoggy and disgusting when I glanced out the window is not because I was in the Amestrian equivalent of the Industrial Revolution, as I thought first, but because of factories spewing out lots of stuff for war.

Two. There were multiple wars going on. Aerugo and Creta have been in stalemate for a long time, and I thought Ishval was too, but here I updated that the Ishval war was apparently… new? Started a year ago, in fact. Relatively new, compared to the approximately decade-long stalemates I've heard the other two were.

Three (and this I've already known for awhile), I was in Central, mini-Marlon's mother came from the East, and Alain came from the South. Given their names, I assumed there was a North and a West as well.

And four related to my new dad – the military seemed pretty powerful here. I mean, whenever I heard government it seemed to relate back to the military somewhere? There must be a normal government _somewhere,_ or my suspicion was right, and Amestris was a militant, authoritarian government...

Five—it was strange, but whenever I heard the word 'Amestris' or 'alchemy' or anything related to that, I felt tingly.

No, not tingly, but like the vague shadows of a memory, or like remembrance through the pages of a history text book. Always there, but in the desperation of an exam, forgotten totally.

"Marlon, what are you doing with your hand sticking out like that?" The bustling briskness of Head Nurse Joy came into the room, her long black hair braided to the small of her back over her uniform. I sheepishly stuffed my hand back into the covers, smiling my best smile at Joy.

"I was just practicing my numbers so that I could show off my counting to daddy when he visits tonight," I told Joy.

And Joy was my favourite and my least favourite nurse all at once because of strictly _this—_

"Don't lie to me, Marlon," Joy said dryly, her eyebrow raised even as she busied herself with collecting charts and pushing my finished breakfast to the side. "We both know you're smarter than that. I know a friend whose four year old kid can't speak in perfect grammar yet, you know?"

I puffed my cheeks at Joy's back, both glad and aggravated there was a person around me that _got_ me.

"That doesn't mean I can count!"

"Doesn't mean you can't," Joy sing-songed back, putting the charts back and sitting on the chair Alain left. And this was why I knew I was her favourite – when she pulled a night-shift and was on break before she started morning shift, she came to my room and… relaxed, basically. Once, I'd asked her why, and she just smiled enigmatically.

"Why, that's a secret!"

I used the Big Eyes of Extreme Guilt-tripping.

"Alright, alright," she caved, "you remind me of someone important to me, that's all."

"Who?" I eagerly asked then, though not too excitedly because I was still in a more nebulous stage of recovery then. "Your daughter? Niece?"

But Joy just shook her head and tried to distract me by letting out her hair and giving me a brief crash course on how to braid. Of course, I already _knew_ how to braid, but I let that one go and pretended to get into it. It was obviously private.

Now though, Joy was still giving the eyebrow.

"I was counting something, but not practicing my numbers," I admitted. "But it's a secret!" I immediately insisted afterwards, and Joy just gave up on the topic then and there, because she knew I was extremely stubborn when I wanted to be.

"Alright, alright. Do you want a story then?" She asked me, and I nodded. She went into one of the local fairy tales, about a spirit that took a gold coin whenever someone was lied to someone and the little boy who lied until his family went into poverty, before she had to go back to her shift.

I was sleepy after breakfast so I slept.

Not much to do in a hospital, you know?

It's great.

* * *

Only half an hour or so had passed when I woke up, so I got out a few books and just kept reading about the adventures of Floppy the Bunny. I'd liked how cute it was, you see, and when dad Alain noticed he just bought me the twenty-book set.

Dad Alain, when compared to past-world Dad…

This was confusing. Well, my brother Leo sometimes called past-world 'Dad' as 'Pa', so I guess I can use that.

Anyway, dad Alain was a really attentive father. After Truth pointed out that the memories of my mother weren't there, I realised I didn't have much time with my Pa at all – most of my memories of family (and not school or other such) were with Danny and Leo. It was probably because my mother was with Pa a lot, so those memories were harder to remember though.

Flipping the seventeenth _Floppy_ book, I pursed my lips as I wondered.

What type of person was mother?

Hmmm… For this life, dad Alain told me she'd died when I was a year and half old with the most heartbroken expression on his face, so I never asked again.

However, my past life mother was the reason I was _here_ in the first place. It was certainly worth thinking about anyway. The only hints I had of her were those words Truth had said, 'she loved you very much', and the own gaps of my memories.

I remembered loving animation – any sort of animation I hawked at. It started with Disney, of course, before Sunday TV cartoons, before catching a stray episode of _Pokemon_ once, when I woke up really early from a nightmare and I sneaked into the living room to watch TV.

Then it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the anime world opened to me – from I was eight onwards, Leo (the more nerdy twin of my brothers) would settle down next to me while Danny would fidget with the remote wishing he was watching something else (like boxing, which I still didn't the appeal of, sadly enough). But from when I was… fifteen or so? Suddenly huge sessions of anime I knew I liked (like _One Piece,_ for example) were suddenly, well, blank.

Which probably meant I'd dragged mother into my anime sessions.

Truth had said it before. _You were very close_ or something like that.

I was lost in daydreams of who my mother could have been to me – probably brown haired, because my Pa was blonde but Leo and Danny were brown haired, and had kind eyes. Loved to watch anime with me, which means a cool mother, duh...

Someone stepped into my room that weren't in nurse whites, and I glanced to the side to see dad Alain in a comfortable looking grey knit and black pants step in with a smile and I blinked in surprise.

Oh right, it was Saturday! Dad always came at eleven or so on the weekends, saying he wanted to finish all his work first so he could spend the day with me without being distracted.

It was cute, to be honest.

"Oh, Major Crawford, you've arrived!" Nurse Gloria gushed, dropping whatever she was doing when she saw my _recently widowed father_ , and I gave her a tiny glare because even though dad Alain was shockingly solid in a lot of things (he was a Major, which I think I remember being pretty high up?) he was shockingly vulnerable with his emotional side.

As of course you'd expect with a recently dead wife and an extremely sick child!

Gosh, she needs her priorities set straight.

"Nurse," Alain replied, giving a distant smile and a polite nod. "Is there anything that needs to be done for my daughter?"

"Oh, just do her normal movement exercises!" Gloria bubbled, overeager to present herself as helpful and straightening my sheets and giving me a pat on the head I totally didn't need. "She's already eaten her breakfast, and lunch is scheduled at one thirty as usual! We're a bit busy from a sudden influx of patients, so it'll be great if you could help!"

"Alright. Thank you, have a good day, nurse."

At the obvious dismissal, even Gloria didn't stick around even though she looked like she wanted to. Alain just settled into his comfy chair though with a small smile on his face that just made the person he was now, and the person he was two seconds ago look totally different. He'd make an excellent poker player, I thought in my head as I looked at him critically. The eyes could stare you down, and everything else makes people underestimate him…

"What are you thinking about, Marlon?" He asked with a huff of a laugh, reaching out to brush the wrinkles in my forehead. "Are you angry at me being late?"

"You were late?" I blinked in surprise, and he just shook his head in amusement.

"And here I was, worried that you'll be angry at me." He set his daily daffodil in the small vase next to my bedside and said a little prayer to it before turning my way again. "Do you want to do your daily exercises now?"

I pulled a face.

I know, _I know_ , mini-Marlon was so sick she didn't get to run around and only started crawling a bit before being strapped to the hospital, but it didn't mean getting back that mobility as fast as you could so I didn't have complications later on didn't suck.

"Alright, let's do it now!" Dad clapped his hands, his eyes gleaming bright with a bit of fun as I groaned.

"Daddy, do I have to?" I whined even as he arranged my bed back to flat and packed away my book for me.

"Yes, Marlon," he answered with the smallest, most serious teasing smile I've ever seen. But that was just my new dad, serious to a fault, and I found myself slightly loving it a little? It was to find someone who took you seriously as a two/three year old (I have no idea how old I was). "You told me you wanted to run in that park outside your window, didn't you? If you really did, you have to do this."

I replied with the most put upon sigh I could give. "Okay…"

"Good girl," he replied with a smile then. "Okay, give me your leg. One, two…"

Half an hour later, even with breaks, I was soaked with sweat but dad Alain had a genuinely proud smile on his face that made me think that the past half hour of hell-on-earth was worth it.

"Good job. What do you want to do today, Marlon? Last week they let you out of the room, so do you want me to try to find a wheel chair again and get Nurse Joy to unhook you from some of this stuff for a while?"

I thought back to the trip he was talking about. Last week had been a little overwhelming though – just like the first few days of lucidity in my room that made me slightly overloaded compared to the white eternity of Truth's existence, the flow outside my room wasn't dictated by my pace. More fast-paced, more energy.

But I had to go out someday, and dad Alain inspired confidence so. Who else could I do this with better than new-dad?

So I nodded, though a bit unsure.

"Alright," and with no further preamble or goodbyes, he just up and left.

…That was Alain too. If he had something to do, he just did it.

A few minutes later, Joy had a wheelchair and unhooked me from stuff that I still had no idea of their function. The machines had lessened by half though, just saying, in the months I'd been here.

"The only thing Marlon needs now is to build up her body weight and function," Joy had been explaining to Alain briskly, "her lungs only need time too, remarkable as it is." When she entered, she gave me a silly smile and a small poke to the forehead that made me giggle. " _You_ are very remarkable, my dear."

After she had finished depositing me into the chair (where my feet stuck out, hilariously enough) and directed all the things Alain had to keep in mind, we left the room.

It was a peaceful walk except for one key thing.

"It's so full today," I remarked with surprise, as we passed a whole room of soldiers with lost limbs that looked relatively recent. I'd understood that this military hospital wasn't for emergencies or anything – mostly, it was for soldiers who'd come back with injuries that needed a few months and lived in Central but last week that room had only been half-full.

Alain's absent-mindedness towards my intelligence didn't include exposing me to military matters however, and just hummed. "There must be a lot of people getting injured," was his mild reply, before we moved on from that ward into other wards. But just like the first one, most of the wards were full.

When we went back to my room, I kept up an upbeat face on the outside so that Alain couldn't detect my solemnity, the bright spot of yellow from the daffodils a nice change of pace from the rushing nurses and the sweating, recovering and rehabilitating patients.

It was obvious that the walk had ruined the mood though, and throughout the rest of the day, there was a slight strain to it that didn't come from either of us. It was obvious that outside this calm, peaceful little room, the wars was getting worse.

That night, dad Alain stroked my hair once after I'd pretended to sleep early, before leaving right away.

The next day was a Sunday. He didn't appear.

* * *

For the first time in what, six months? Alain didn't visit for two consecutive days, before he rushed in on Tuesday with the most haggard expression on his face.

"What do you do in the military, daddy?" I'd finally asked then, and he only replied with the most complicated expression on his face before shaking his head.

"Not yet, Marlon," he replied. "I know you're a beautiful, smart girl. So, so smart," and he gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead then, "but I don't want the world to touch you yet."

His visit lasted for five minutes, and it was obvious that it was all the time he had to spare because with a heartbreakingly sad look, the look he had whenever he got reminded of his wife, he left.

The next two weeks continued in the same fashion – he either visited too late, or he only visited for a look at my condition and face, before leaving.

With all this time to my hands, I hugged my Floppy books close to my chest and listened, made use of my childish charm to get myself to corners where I could overhear _something_ , calculated my questions at my movement exercise times when it was with a gossipy nurse to carefully pry answers to everything.

In the end, I realised that Creta had realised the strain Ishval was taking on Amestris and had made a military movement that took people from surprise, and had successfully overtook a small, but crucial town that had regulated supplies. Something like that. Hospitals in West Amestris overflowed, so they transported the less injured and the ones who'd been taken out of their military career by injury back to their hometowns and areas if they could. Most of the soldiers that had come to the hospital I was staying came were from Central, to recover near their families.

And I think I got a hint of what Alain did in the military – it was something to do with intelligence. Either that, or counterintelligence, I had no idea, but he was something of a rising star in whatever area of intelligence he did.

Amestris hadn't been able to retake the town yet, but military efforts were trying to find the weakness (apparently Creta always had a weakness, since the tribes that made up their military hated each other so much), and were confident in making a comeback.

It took a month or so for the hubbub and gossip to die down to something else _(Ishvalans,_ they whispered, _they fight with the worth of ten men)._ Joy came in for a break, her braid slightly messy and her shoulders bowed down with fatigue. A few nurses had shipped out to help in the front lines, while some had come back to recuperate a little, and it was hard for Joy to manage.

It was that night, at nearly the eighth month of my stay in this strange, violent new world with alchemy and military and bright, kind fathers, I realised that something was very, _very_ wrong with this country.

"Joy?" I had asked, trying to word the question I wanted in a way that could draw the real answers out of her. "Why does everybody hate Ishval?"

Joy paused from her position slumped on the chair and gave me a considering look from under the black fringe of her hair. Although I'd made my tone airy and innocent, my expression said it all and Joy slowly sat up, sliding her braid over her shoulder as she kept eye contact.

"Because they're killing a lot of us," she replied after a pause. She considered my face again, and spoke to me like an equal. "And that makes people scared. When something is scary, it's easy to hate it."

I'd hoped instead of a short summary of why the war started, why the big deal about this accidental shooting I heard, but I took what I could get. I think she was unsurprised when I digested that with little effort. I find that little I could do could get Joy surprised now—but posing as a genius wasn't as bad as it could be. It would explain the early alchemy that I would experiment with, when my body was healthier.

"Don't we kill Ishval too?" I queried back. "Doesn't that just create a cycle of killing and scariness?"

Joy gave me the most wry smile she could give me. "You're a very smart girl, Marlon," she said, smoothing her hair back from her forehead only for her fringe to flop back down. "Most people don't question that. They just _do_."

"Why?"

And this, _this_ was the first time I realised something was wrong, something was wrong with this country itself, this world (and not just the distant echo of a destroyed empire long, long ago, with my true mother and the two twins), when Joy stiffened as she heard my question, before suddenly bending really close to me. Her face had always been on the plain side, her eyes green with slightly droopy eyelids, but that day they were alert and blazing. Intelligent, in the way Grace and the other nurses weren't.

"Marlon, learn this from me. Can you promise me this?"

My eyes had involuntarily widened at her closeness – but I was able to nod.

"Never, ever, ask why. Why war happens. Why we continue to fight. Why we have to hate Ishval and Cretans and Aerugonians. Put your head down and listen, if you want answers. Questions are dangerous, especially with your father in the position he is in."

No one in the hospital apparently knew exactly _what_ my father did in intelligence, but with Joy staring me in, I realised she, at least, knew. Somehow.

I nodded, slightly overwhelmed. She relaxed.

"Your father is a good man in a dangerous place," was the next thing she offered, quietly and in my ear, as if she was dissuading all the doubts that were swarming in my head after giving a huge warning flare against the government Alain worked for. Then she straightened up as if nothing happened, her whole face relaxed and a little stern again. "Well, my break is over, Marlon. Sleep well, okay?"

After a pat on the head, she left, and I was left staring at the ceiling with wide-eyes.

* * *

I realised I was three years old, and half-way to four when a doctor carelessly left my report on the bedside table next to me underneath the withered daffodils. It was the ninth month of my stay here, and I was able to at least walk now, though jogging was still a dream left for another month.

I'd put my head down and listened, just like Joy had told me to do. Ishval was only getting worse and worse, with increasing suspicion that Aerugo wasn't just waging war with us but also supplying weapons to Ishval, and Creta hadn't stopped their initial assault, even though it had waned in strength since a few weeks back. Weekly chits and rationing were becoming stricter, and women were urged to join the war effort as nurses while propaganda incited the loyalty of men to fight Ishval. If not loyalty, then at least derided their lack of pride and courage.

Throughout it all, I sat in my hospital room watching dad's eyebags get larger and larger, as he grew more and more haggard. During that time, his chest gained another medal.

I somehow wished I could activate alchemy right then and there, to help him out, or fight, but the Truth of alchemic power lay partially in the strength of the body as one of its elements, and to do so would just set me back in recovery. It would be stupid to do any experimenting now. So I just watched, and tried to be the refuge I so obviously was to him.

It all culminated to one night where Alain didn't even sit down when he arrived, opening a big bag and gathering all I had in there (my set of twenty books, a few stones I collected, a small jumble of gifts) and just scooped me up with his other arm and walked out the door.

"Daddy?" I asked, nervous not because of _him,_ but because of the ice-cold expression on his face as he practically marched down the dim hallways of the hospital, quick and urgent.

"I got an emergency war-promotion, Marlon," he said to me. "I'm not a Major any more, and in accordance to my rank, I need to immediately serve at the front of the Ishvallan War for my _crucial skills_ are needed there urgently." He sneered the last bit, and I was genuinely shocked. I've never seen anything worse than a frown on his face.

"What's happening, daddy?"

He gave me a glance, his glasses hiding nothing in the dark, before he hugged me tighter so that my face was smooshed against the hard shoulder-pad thing of his military uniform.

"I attracted too much attention," dad whispered. "I got an… offer from the government today. I refused, because I'd heard rumours and I was suspicious."

Huh?

"I've always thought of course," Alain muttered to himself. "Lucas, Jonathan, they were brilliant at their jobs and then suddenly got shipped to the most dangerous parts of the war where they were conveniently killed a few months later. Now I've gone and done the same, got the offer to be a gopher and refused and I'm probably being watched but Marlon," he said as he stepped out an emergency door that had been left open and started going down the fire escape, "I would've been fine with dying without you or your mother, but now I've you to come back to. Don't worry about me when you leave. I won't let them kill me. I promise."

A gate near the back of the hospital was left open too, and he shut it gently behind us. The cobblestone streets outside the hospital was empty, with only a few streetlights to light the way. A carriage was waiting for us at the end of the street though, inconspicuous behind a line of parked carriages.

How prepared had dad been? How long had he been waiting for this?

Bags had already been packed and piled on top of the carriage, and inside was Joy, in a neat skirt and blouse.

"Joy?" I blinked at her in surprise, and she gave me a terse smile.

"Marlon, Alain." She pinned her gaze on my father though, as he slid in and told the carriage rider to go. "I signed the papers to get Marlon out and handed in my resignation to the hospital."

"Thank you, Joy," My dad replied with a small bow and Joy just shook her head.

"No, anything for family."

…Wait, what?

"Family?" I asked, turning around to look at Joy now, who did have mini-Marlon's colouring—black hair, green eyes. But she had a different bone structure, as her brow was heavier and her cheekbones more prominent and lower than mine, which were higher but slight?

"I'm your aunt, Marlon," Joy just dropped that bomb on me. "Your mother was my older sister."

"And you didn't tell me?" I asked, slightly incredulous that a tie to mini-Marlon's mother had been there all this time and no-one had thought to tell me. My baleful glare at Alain made his icy-cold expression crack and warm up a little though, which made me smile again.

Why did my dad have to be so gentle? I couldn't keep angry at him at all!

"Joy didn't want you to know."

Joy shrugged at that. "It would have been for the best. I got you into the hospital Marlon, because of some… technicalities, and it'd be best if your dad and I pretended not to know each other."

"So you were the one who left the doors open?" I asked, and Joy blinked placidly at me before nodding.

"Yes. Of course you'll figure that out."

The carriage slowed down in front of the train station, where the carriage driver popped the divider between the driver seat and us and gave Alain a tired smirk.

"Alain, you owe me big."

"I do. If you need any help in the future, James, call upon me for help."

The driver just nodded and slid the divider closed, slipping out the carriage before leading some porters from the station to carry the bags (we had four relatively heavy ones, disregarding the bag holding my books), into the station. The train we were catching was apparently one that crossed the borders from Central to the East, and one left two hours. This one was the last one of the day.

My thoughts were shaken though, when Alain lifted me off his lap and onto the seat next to him, pulling out a soft package wrapped in brown paper.

"Marlon, here's a gift for you," dad said with a shake of his head, animating himself with the most strained smile I've ever seen on man.

Man, Alain was really bad at faking smiles.

He handed me the package and headed out, and I understood why when Joy stripped me of my hospital gown and helped me put on a really nice blue dress with green trimming that reached to my knees. I touched the coloured cloth with slight surprise.

The war was making everything like this ridiculously expensive.

When I headed out in Joy's arms, Alain gave me a wide smile. "You told me once," he said without prompting, "that you wanted to wear a blue dress right?"

Floppy no.4 featured the bunny in a blue dress that I'd admired for fun to tease my new dad about his utter lack of knowledge for women's fashion, but to think he _remembered…_

"Daddy, you're not coming with us, right?"

It was obvious. Joy's, my _auntie_ (I was going to process that later), arms were tight with worry, and Alain's speech back then implied…

"Yes," he replied.

To that, I had to fight off a wave of tears, because right from day one he'd been my rock here.

"I'll miss you."

"Me too, darling," he murmured, leaning over to kiss my forehead before sighing. Then he went back onto the carriage without looking back, his expression harsh with determination. The driver started the carriage, turning the corner and disappeared, leaving me behind with Joy.

The train was slated to leave in ten minutes, but we had time to find a priority seat (they were more cushioned) and sit, after Joy had confirmed that our bags had arrived on the train. There, we sat, me leaning slightly on Joy as I processed through what had happened as fast as possible, and Joy silent as she stared through the opposite window. It was the slightly awkward silence of two people who didn't know what to do with each other, before Joy broke it.

"I'm sorry for not telling you that I was your aunt, Marlon," Joy said softly. "It's best to clear the air first so, I'll admit it. I...I was running away."

"It's okay," I replied, trying to focus back on the trail my thoughts were leading (something with government, something with _Amestris_ ) before being completely derailed when Joy continued.

"My sister had always been weak," she continued, "and when you were born so weak, I was afraid to get close to you, and you'd die too. I didn't… I didn't plan on becoming your friend but you drew me in. I couldn't help but start liking you."

"It's okay," I said again. "I understand."

"You really do, don't you?" Joy said that with slight wonder in her voice. "Where do you get your smarts from? Your mother hated anything academic."

"Daddy, probably," I shrugged, and Joy gave me a small smile, and now I noticed how the shade of her eyes _were_ the same brilliant green as mini-Marlon's, only I never noticed because I was used to my eyes being brown.

"We're going to Resembool," Joy said as she changed the subject, arranging herself in a more comfortable fashion near the window as she spoke. "When I studied nursing, I had a friend who was studying to be a doctor. She married this Drachma doctor and then settled down in her hometown. Both her and her husband are going to help as aid workers in the Ishvallan border."

When she mentioned Resembool, I had a flash of memory. A blonde girl, with a happy smile, waving a wrench. I was smiling at the screen, before Leo called me down for dinner and…

A wrench? The name _Winry_ also floated in my mind, but as it lead to nothing else I dismissed it. I had a lot of these feelings whenever I thought of Amestris anyway.

"Sara said they were going to rent their house and put down the clinic while they weren't there. Their daughter was going to live with her mother, and the house was going to be left empty, but when I said I needed somewhere to go they said it was the perfect solution. I know enough to handle small illnesses and injuries, so the town still hasn't got a doctor but at least some medical expertise."

Resembool was an East town huh…

"But isn't East where the Ishvallan war is?"

Joy nodded, kept silent as the train conductor announced that the doors were closing, before hugging me close when she continued.

"Your dad wasn't very happy about moving there, said Resembool was too close for his comfort, but Central isn't safe with what your Dad is doing, the North's air is too cold for your lungs, South is out because of Aerugo, and Creta is to the west. Ishval is fairly contained for now, so it's still a better choice than the others."

I nodded and settled down myself, trying to arrange Joy's elbow in a way that let me lean on the meaty part of her arm.

I'd expected my first trip outside the hospital to be an adventurous experience, actually. With dad pointing out the things I've never technically 'seen' before, while I compared the state of technology and culture to my own in my memories. Maybe then we could get that pie he was always going on about from the street corner he liked, and then go home and see what Alain had solemnly promised to be 'spectacular'. I had a room all too myself that Alain had decorated with his wife, and he'd been looking forward to letting me live in it.

But now I just stared despondently at the lack of shoes on my feet. I wiggled my toes, and watched the shadow on the polished floor move as well. I had no energy to absorb the world right now. The night outside was too dark for me to see much anyway, except the eerie shadowy shifts of buildings as they passed.

"Do you think daddy will be okay?" I asked.

Joy glanced down at me and lied with a smile.

"Of course."

That was all I needed to know, and I curled around the sudden heavy weight inside my chest, tucking my small feet as close as I could to my body and gave a big, heaving sigh.

"Sleep for now, Marlon," Joy encouraged. "There's a long train ride to go."

I felt way too keyed up to sleep though, and the train carriage was relatively bright as well. In the end, Joy was the one who fell asleep first, a loose arm around me that I didn't protest, while I stared out the window and the relatively empty train carriage. The old woman two seats away snored, a worried woman across kept a tight grip on a photo even as she slept, and I sat there, slowly dissecting the last mutters of my father and connecting them with the information I eavesdropped in the hospital.

A few hours later, I fell asleep against Joy's shoulder, my fingers entangled in hers.

* * *

 **Hello! I'm back! :D**

 **I've hammered out a schedule, so now I think I can keep up maybe a fortnightly schedule along with Haikyuu. I'll get my act together soon, haha. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I find I always take so long to start up a story. XD Politics _are_ going to be part of the main story, like for example, what I did to the government here. It never made sense to me that there wouldn't be dissenters like Mustang - the whole government he confronted was corrupted, you know? So I figured they probably monitored high achievers in their military, asked them if they were receptive to their ideas, and if they said no, give a reason and ship them to where they couldn't make trouble/die. But it's still going to be relatively low key, I think? Maybe? I'll take it as it comes. **

**I'm looking forward to Ed and Al and Winry, to be honest. :DDD They'll appear next chapter!**

 **On the other hand, thank you very much for your reviews, favourites and follows. You guys. YOU GUYS. All of you are so kind. *big hug to everyone***


	3. Meetings

I have to admit, riding to Resembool was extremely tiring.

It wasn't just that it was the first time out of hospital, where instead of the comforting uniformity of the hospital (everyone has the same goals there, similar-ish anyway). Everyone was different, set different paces for themselves, looked for different things.

This was something everyone was used to in a big city – heck, I remember being an expert at sliding between people and getting to places early in the torturous rush hour metro tunnels – but I was horribly out of practice when Joy grabbed me to switch trains.

People shoved, pushed, looked down, up, bounced babies, laughed and ribbed each other, and I think there was a bunch of school students that were trying out for the military or something in Central, because they had nervous smiles on their faces, large bags with papers peeking out of their bags in casual-formal wear. And the _smell_. Sweat, sunshine on stone, the ever-present dusty-charcoal smell of factories, the greasy fried potato smell from that stall I spotted just on the corner, the smell of the city was one I was intimately familiar with (and not, because there was no smell of exhaust and petrol), and it was… surprisingly unpleasant.

I'd been more of a city girl in my last life, but this wasn't the humdrum buzz of technology and disengagement– it was the bustling energy of _living_. No-one could look down at phones, because mobile phones weren't invented yet. So people walked with their shoulders wide and confident, and sometimes caught each other's eye. Gentlemen would tip hats at each other, murmur a 'good morning' that was lost in the hubbub, but it was the gesture that meant more than the words. Women smiled and giggled, aunties gossiped while holding baskets of morning produce, and it was all so _loud_.

I was standing a little broodily next to Joy's legs as she talked to a station attendant, staring at the riot of movement and feeling, for the first time, that yes, _I was in another world._ It hadn't hit me quite so hard until then, watching all these people live their lives.

Joy laughed at my face, after she had checked that our bags had been transferred to the right train.

"What is it, Marlon? You look like you've sucked a lemon."

Yeah. The lemon of _humanity_.

"It's noisy," I answered shortly, frowning at these two teen boys who were loudly daring each other to run across the train tracks towards the other platform. We were right at the border of Central and the East, a major stop in deciding where to go from there. Resembool wasn't a _large_ town by any means, so we had to catch a train to East City. From there, there would be a local train to Resembool.

I admit, the air between Joy and I was still extremely awkward, but she tried. And in return, I tried my best back.

So after my complaint, I tried my best to hide how utterly overwhelmed I was. "But it's okay," I nodded, staring back at this toddler who was gumming this huge, hard, cookie thing. Probably teething. "When's our next train?"

I noted that Amestris tended towards more muted colours – brown and beige were the common colours for clothing here, with bright colours only used for fancy occasions. Dye was expensive, after all, and military usually stood out with their blue coats in the sea of whites, browns, and maybe if someone had been feeling especially glamorous that day, (gasp) olive green.

That's for guys though. Women had a few more pastel colours that they generally wore, but even then it was pretty standard.

"Fifteen minutes. We have time. Want to get something to eat while we wait?"

Later on, we settled into the train with some fruit on hand, and another few hours of train left to reach East City, and then _another_ two hours before Resembool. And this time there were no prioritised cushiony seats.

I was lucky enough to get to sit on Joy's lap for some of it, but still.

The train rolled on and on, the city turning into more rural, green fields (which I watched in avid interest for all of two seconds before giving way back to boredom).

As much as trains were awesome and I was glad they were invented and everything, I was becoming absolutely _sick_ of them.

* * *

When we actually got to Resembool, it was already high noon.

As much as I loved the inactivity and routine inherent in the structure of the hospital, the train was a _whole_ different matter. Sure, you were still sitting there like a lump of turd, but that was in the dubious company of screaming babies, crotchety old grandmas, snoring people, shameless old men who did shameless old men habits (that were generally quite disgusting), this flirty newlywed pair at the back of the carriage, coupled with a hard wooden bench and the ongoing smell of smoke from an unfortunate incident when we went under a tunnel and a person didn't shut their window fast enough (Joy panicked a bit, insisted on holding a handkerchief over my mouth, and it was necessary and all, but annoying than anything else).

So I was practically first to stumble out of the train when I heard a bell ring and a guy yelling 'Resembool! This station is Resembool!' slowly walked down the platform outside.

Then I took a moment to take note of my surroundings.

The train station was rustic, just a platform next to tracks that then glittered as it wove down glowing verdant green fields towards the horizon. It was very different to the grey industrialisation of Central City– the air smelt like _air_ here, with a taste of spring humidity.

It was I who first spotted the family that was standing on the platform though, since Joy was watching over someone lugging our bags out of the train and carefully counting them. They weren't part of the sparse flow going in and out of the trains – they stood like they were waiting for somebody.

Then the blonde woman (hugging a daughter, and that was my first clue, really) brightened when she spotted my aunt's black hair.

"Joy! Long time no see!"

Joy turned around at that, her whole face relaxing – I'd noticed that, how she'd been so tense with me, unsure. But now when she saw her friend, I saw her grin for the first time. "Sarah! It's nice to see you," she laughed, nodding a thanks to the boy who'd lugged our bags and pressing some money into hand before going to greet Sarah fully. Sarah, a nice looking woman with blonde hair pulled practically back in a pony-tail, walked towards us with big strides and a wide smile. She handed her daughter to her husband to give my aunt a hug.

Her daughter looked with unabashed curiosity at me, before giving me a wide smile with a peek of teeth, and I couldn't help but smile back.

While the two women caught up a little, the father took a few steps forward until he was in front of me, kneeling down and settling his daughter on her feet before directing his smile at me.

"Hello!" He grinned, "My name is Yuriy Rockbell. Feel free to call me Uncle Yuriy!" He held out a large hand for me to shake, and I took it with confidence, clutching three of his fingers and giving it a shake. His face warmed a little with amusement then, when I introduced myself back.

"I am Marlon Crawford," I said clearly. "It's nice to meet you, Uncle Yuriy."

His daughter was fidgeting until Yuriy nudged her a little on the back, making her stumble forward a bit. She turned a glare at her father (who just chuckled in that way adults did when their kid was abashed over something small) before turning to me and blushing as she held out her own hand.

Our hands were the same size when I took it.

"Hello," I said, in a tone less like I was reciting lines and more warm, for this little girl who was trying her best. "My name is Marlon Crawford. It's nice to meet you…?"

There wasn't any need to ham up my 'innocent child' act anymore, after all. My dad, who'd needed it, was gone.

"W-winry," she stuttered, her mouth having a slight lisp on the 'r', "Winry Rockbell. It's nice to meet you too!" She blustered the last part, loud with her eyes shiny and large. She shook my hand a little wildly before letting go. I let go of my spark of surprise at her name ( _Winry_ , _a golden girl waving a wrench_ ) and smiled a little wider.

"Winry's a very pretty name," I complimented. She immediately blushed again, even harder this time, and I wondered if she didn't get compliments a lot, or if she didn't have many friends. She was such a cute girl though, with fine gold hair, blue eyes, dressed in a white dress that reached her shins.

"Th-thanks," she squirmed, and at this, Yuriy laughed.

"Winry, you're not usually so shy," he teased, stroking her head. "Why, don't I just remember you yelling at Edward about how he mean he was to Alphonse this morning? And boasting about how much taller you were compared to Edward too, while you're at it. Ah, my daughter is such a spitfire!"

Winry's face twisted in mortification as I watched her whine a _'Daaaaaad!'_ , and my aunt and Sarah Rockbell turned to us around then.

"Yuriy, it's nice to see you again too," Joy greeted with a smile, while Sarah gave an amused eye at Winry's antics.

"Marlon is half a year older than you, Winry, and you always said you wanted an older sister, didn't you?" Sarah joined in on the gentle teasing, and when Winry's face turned even more red, and her eyes started to collect a few tears (it was obvious this introduction wasn't what she'd planned in her head), I couldn't resist and took her hand in mine again, squeezing it.

Turn on the charm, x10! Gain a little sister on the way!

My gut was telling me she was a good kid, and I really, really wanted friends.

"I've always wanted a little sister too, so don't worry," I said with my best smile, tilting my head for maximum effect, with the words actually truthful. Leo and Danny were great older brothers, but they were still _guys_ , and sometimes being the youngest, only girl sibling _sucked_. "I would love to get to know you, Winry! You're very cute."

Winry blushed up to her _ears_.

It was adorable.

Joy just gave me an amused _look_ then, that made it obvious that she was quite dubious about my sudden 'apparent' want to have a kid sister. Shush, it's true this time, Joy.

"D-do you want to be friends then?" Winry ploughed forward, undaunted even though her blush was still full force. Edward and Alphonse were male names, weren't they? I contemplated the girl in front of me briefly. And by what Yuriy said, it seems like she was more tomboy than girly-girl. Maybe she didn't have many female friends?

When I didn't immediately respond (to my defence, she gave me less than half a second, as kids do), she continued, twisting her hands in her skirt and all. "I mean, don't listen to mama or papa, I'm _really_ nice, and I have so many things I wanna show you, and I, I really like your eyes you know, they're a really pretty green—"

Gosh, this kid was _too_ adorable.

"I would love to be friends with you, Winry," I said as warmly as I could, extending a hand which she took tentatively for a second or so, before holding it in a surprisingly strong grip. She beamed, and the adults (who had been quietly talking while watching us two with amused eyes), chuckled and shepherded us out of the station.

Winry's other hand found Yuriy's, while she kept a tight hold of mine in her own sweaty little one, and she chattered non-stop, "oh, and that's farmer Kinsey HI MISTER KINSEY, he's really nice because he sometimes gives me and Ed and Al a ride back from the market with Ducky, oh right, Ducky is his son, it's short for Duncan but his hair sticks out like a duck-butt so we call him Ducky…"

Yuriy was obviously entirely too amused with his daughter, his smile a light-hearted thing that reminded me of my last life. Danny looked at me and Leo like that when we bickered over board games, for all he was only half-an-hour older than Leo.

It also reminded me of Alain, who had never had such a light-hearted expression on his face in all the majority of the year I've known him. He was always hunched over documents when I hadn't tried my best to capture his attention, and even then, only able to be tiredly happy when I got him to laugh.

He was going to be sent to Ishval soon. I remembered the set of his jaw when he'd climbed into that carriage. So determined. So… sad.

 _(Didn't you hear? They say an Ishvallan fights with the worth of ten men)_

Winry suddenly stopped her torrent of words as she shot a wide, shiny expectant smile at me. I blinked before pasting a smile on a face.

"Hmm? What was that, Winry? I'm sorry, I didn't totally catch that." I squeezed her hand too, in brief apology.

Winry just launched into her question again though. "Weeeell, I was just wondering what you think of Resembool! I mean, I've told you lots about it, but I still don't really know what _you_ think, I mean, they say Central is a really cool place!" Then her voice dropped into a hush. _"It's the capital, you know?"_

I couldn't stop the slight smirk (because _children)_ that started tugging at my mouth before I squashed it into a smile as I looked back forward.

"Central isn't that much of an amazing place," I murmured vacantly, thinking of the people on the street that were herded towards the city limits by the military so that they didn't block the roads, the factories that continued to spew smoke everywhere, and the heavy weight of the Fuhrer's residential district that gave me the chills after I'd started suspecting the government. "Compared to that, Resembool is much calmer. I like it. It's beautiful."

Winry just gave the largest smile.

"You speak really nice! Like, super nice, just like the adults."

Then that train of thought obviously led nowhere, because Winry just skipped somewhere else and tugged at her dad's hand, and asked what was for lunch. I listened, apparently it was some type of chicken broth thing, when there was a hiccup in the conversation behind us when Joy's amused voice cut into the conversation.

"Yes, you speak _very_ nicely, Marlon," and when I glanced back a little clumsily (this body was so out of shape it was ridiculous), she was more relaxed than I had ever seen her, her hair a little loose from the breeze and with her arm linked to Sarah.

I gave her a shrug – it wasn't as if she didn't _guess_ I'd been acting more childish for Alain's benefit – and turned back to Winry who right then was beaming.

"I love chicken broth!" She was just jumping around, energy high and buzzing. Her short blonde hair was bouncing with every jump.

She skipped like that – short, skips that were high but not _fast_ – all the way down the road until we bundled into the wooden cart waiting down there for us, complete with a horse.

I wonder if her parents had told her of my condition, and that's why she never tried to pull me to run forward like she obviously wanted.

It was obvious my first friend in this world was a nice girl.

* * *

I kept my smile up valiantly, in my opinion.

When we'd arrived, Joy had immediately put me to bed – after Winry's parents had pointed out which room was ours and whatnot.

 _Nice_ , I'd realised, was an understatement regarding Winry, the little girl with the strong grip and clearest blue eyes I've ever seen. She threw all of herself into everything she did. If she was excited, she was _excited._ If she was happy, she was _happy._ If she sulked, she was that type of sulker that had a cloud over their head, the imagined weight of all the grievances in the world on her shoulders, her lip jutted out and her eyes watery, all with complete and utter honesty.

And she flitted back and forth on these emotions in a way only a kid could.

"You can use Mr Kitty too!" Winry insisted, her hands shoving yet _another_ soft toy at me from her bundle of soft toys. "He'll keep you company, because he always keeps _me_ company when I'm sick!"

Winry beamed at me, expecting something from me, and I nodded with a smile and tugged it closer under my left arm because my right arm was _waaaay_ too full.

"Thank you, Winry," I said. Mr Kitty was very cute. Just like Mr Froggy and Miss Lamb and Mrs Ducky and Mr Cow and… yeah. Winry didn't seem to have the most original naming sense.

When I said that, I somehow passed muster? Somehow? And then she bounced happily onto my bed.

The adults had left us in here after Joy had set up all the things (read: a surprising amount of machines I'd grown familiar to seeing) she'd brought from Central. Surprisingly, I was actually sharing a room with Winry. Joy got pissed of course – Winry's parents had apparently told her they were going to leave soon, and she didn't like _imposing_ , but Yuriy and Sarah were those people who just laughed everything off and insisted nothing was imposing?

Yeah, those hard to deal with types.

There was an extra room, but Joy took it. It was a small room, but cozy, but they couldn't fit all my machines in there, so they just tugged Winry's wardrobe out of the room and got out the extra twin bed and stationed me in their _daughter's room_ because her room was the second largest one So now Winry was sans a wardrobe and plus another tiny child's bed and at least four medical machines and all she looked like while doing it was asking if she could help, bounding over to me (who was in a chair because walking was exhausting stuff), and fidgeting in front of the kitchen staring at some cookies on a counter too high to reach.

She'd muttered to me she wanted to share them with me because her mom made the _best cookies ever!_ And then Sarah actually took two cookies out and gave them to us and I wanted to shake them and tell them there should be a limit to being nice, dammit!

"Are you sure you want to… share Mr Kitty?" I asked now, happily settled in bed with pajamas and way too many soft toys. "And Mrs Ducky and Mr Cow and Froggy and Miss Lamb with me? I'm really happy but I think you should keep some too."

I tried giving Mr Cow back, because his eyes were actually kind of creepy, and she took it, tucked it under an arm, before her eyes lit up and she started bouncing on the bed.

Oof, stop that, Winry. That's my hand you're sitting on there.

"It's just, it's just you're my first _girl_ friend, you know?" Winry said, an excited smile on her face. "Like, you know that house on the hill? That one, out the window!"

A rather big wooden house sat right on top of the hill. Did they have lightning rods here? I mean, they obviously had electricity so probably. If they didn't, that house was a really big fire risk.

"Ed and Al live there," Winry continued, and her eyes took on a slightly fond and slightly frustrated gleam I usually saw on people when they were good friends and they had no idea _why_ , "and they were family friends for Mama, because Aunt Trisha is a good friend of mama! And then now I take care of them," Winry puffed out with a proud chest and I tried to smother a smirk again by morphing it into a smile again.

"I look forward to meeting them, since you like them so much."

Winry's immediate disgusted face. "Ew, _no_. I mean, I like them, but they put frogs on your chair, and, and tug your hair and then they only laugh when you get them back! Well, Al does. When Ed explodes it's kinda funny"

"You really love them, huh?"

Winry rolled her eyes. "You're just like Mama and Papa. How did you get from _that_ that I like them a lot?"

"You'll understand when you're older," I replied, and Winry gave me a lot that spoke pure _you're the same age as me_ before she let me off with an indulgent pat to the hand, and I couldn't help it. I cracked up, wheezing my laughs through my faulty lungs and nearly dying when I choked. After Joy and Winry had panicked enough and calmed me down again, I just thought.

Man. Kids.

Hilarious.

Around then, everyone let me to sleep my 'ordeal' off (like really?) and I only woke up around dinner time. By then there was this absolutely delicious smell of some type of lamb stew in the air, and I happily hopped out of the room and went down the stairs to greet a conked out Joy on a sofa in the living room.

After tip-toeing around her, down the hall was the kitchen. Peering into the doorway, I saw a tiny Winry trying her best to help Sarah knead what looked like choc-chip cookie dough and _man._

If Earth had more kids like Winry, I might've not hated them so much back there.

* * *

The next morning, we were woken up bright and early when someone kept throwing pebbles at our window. Last night, Winry had only fallen asleep after five bedtime stories (all surprisingly feminist fairy tale stories about princesses taking their life back into control and one about robots, surprisingly?) and I'd dropped off soon after.

As I'd never been a morning person, I was trying to contain my annoyance at the _ping_ sounds coming from the glass.

"Winry," I murmured, sleepily turning over and pressing my face into Mr Kitty's belly. "Someone's at the window."

"Mnnngh," Winry replied, sounding similarly lethargic. "Mnaah."

"I agree," I nodded, pulling the light sheet over my head.

A few seconds later, another _ping_ came from the window. This time, it was accompanied by voices.

" _Winry!"_ A boy called. _"Good morning!"_

Then another voice piped up with another pebble, bigger than the others, hit the window. " _Wake up, you lazy bum!"_

"Winry," I tried again, this time turning to my other side to stare blearily at the bed across the room. "There's a boy calling you a lazy bum."

Winry's calm, sleepy face immediately turned into a scowl as she, still with closed eyes, fought off her covers and stomped over to her window and flung it open.

"SHUT UP, ED! I'M NOT A LAZY BUM!"

"Ahaha, Winry! Your hair is such a _mess_ , bwahahaha!"

With the window open, the voices were much clearer, and I assumed the more brash one was Ed, and the one trying to placate a suddenly _much more_ awake Winry as Al.

"That's not nice, brother," Al was scolding, and I struggled to make myself wake up and trudged to Winry with my own heavy feet, a hand blocking a yawn as I came up behind Winry and propped my chin on her shoulder.

"Who're they?" I said as I slowly woke up, with the morning sun in my face as I blinked at the tiny boys underneath the window. At the same time, Ed was glaring up at the my foreign face with a tiny frown and a direct (and quite unintentionally rude) 'who're _you?_ '

Winry puffed up as if to protect me from them, but I just linked my arm with hers and stood with her side by side as I peered down with interest. Ed was the one who looked like Winry and my age, probably, with blonde hair and familiar-looking gold eyes that were… absolutely gorgeous, actually. Al was a softer boy, a year younger, with gentle brown eyes and a beatific smile.

…where was I, and how did I go from Central-angst to a countryside surrounded by beautiful children.

"You must be the girl Winry mentioned was going to live with her for a while!" Al beamed, waved the hand that wasn't being insistently tugged by his older brother. "Hi, I'm Alphonse Elric, but just call me Al!"

By all rights, a two-year-old shouldn't be this eloquent. In fact, I distinctly remember a lot of baby cousins that I'd babysitted when I was previous-life-Marlon as being idiotically droolly and asking me ten times what the colour blue was. But Winry and Ed seemed to speak really well too, so maybe the average level of intelligence in this world was just higher?

(Later, I'd just realise Ed and Al were, in fact, certified geniuses. _Real_ geniuses, and Winry was just extremely, extremely smart. Convenient, I guess, for my own faked genius? Explain it away as something in the water, hah)

"And I'm Edward!" The boy shouted more than any sort of friendly introduction, before pointing at me. "Now tell me your name!"

"Brother, that's also rude," Al said, the first two-year old I've ever met to sound _that_ long-suffering, and I smiled as I leaned forward.

"Marlon Crawford. It's nice to meet you too, Al and Edward."

They were just about to reply when Sarah stuck her head out from the window downstairs, which I realised was the kitchen.

"Ed, Al, have you had breakfast yet? If Trisha doesn't mind, you can eat breakfast here. I'm sure Winry and Marlon would love it."

Ed and Al then said something a little softer that failed to drift upwards to us, before racing up the hill back to their home, which was actually quite a little bit of distance away. Winry pulled me back from the window then, to a little chest of drawers where she pulled out a hair comb and started violently tugging at her hair.

"Stupid Ed! Why can't he be nicer like Al?"

I leaned on the wall as I waited, haven't ever been bothered with my hair because mini-Marlon's black hair was kind of thin from sickness and drugs, and thus, didn't really need that much maintenance. I was examining the wallpaper (curlicued roses and tulips, with daisies scattered here and there) when I replied.

"He didn't seem that bad. Edward seemed very… honest?" I asked back, because that was the first compliment that popped in my head.

"Pffft, _yeah_ , right!" Winry raspberried, before scowling at a particularly stubborn knot, and I reached out and plucked the hair comb out of her hand.

"Okay, calm down. I'll help you with that knot first. Now, sit in front of me," and I plopped on the bed, and Winry just obediently sat cross-legged next to me. She slowly regained her cheer as I slowly picked at the edges (how on _earth_ did she develop this hair knot while she was asleep?) and I was done and tackling a second, humongous knot when there was a delighted gasp from the doorway.

"Oh, you guys are so _close_ already!" Sarah gushed, clapping her hands like a schoolgirl. It didn't fit my image of her as a really nice, professional lady, to be frank. "I just came up to tell you guys it's breakfast, and Ed and Al are probably going to come over, so be prepared!" Sarah winked, and her ponytail swished as she clattered back down the stairs.

I had finished Winry's hair, and was braiding her hair into a halo braid (her bangs were a good length for it) when Joy came in and raised an amused eyebrow.

"I have to give you your daily check ups, Marlon," Joy said with a small smile, her own black hair braided back as always.

"W-wait a bit," I muttered, all my concentration directed at _finishing this braid perfectly please_ because admittedly, I was very out of practice.

The end result was a little puffy, but still quite nice. When Winry pulled out a hand mirror and gasped in surprise, I considered it a job well done.

"It's _beautiful_ ," Winry enthused, patting her hands all over the braid until she visibly stilled her hair in horror at maybe _ruining_ it, and I gave a small, amused huff. The Halo braid could live with a bit of mussing, which was why I chose it. Winry sounded like an active kid.

"And now Edward can't say your hair is messy and laugh anymore, right?" I said with a wink (or my desperate attempt at a wink, which is a half face grimace), and Winry blinked at me a few times before breaking out into this _huge_ smile, and launching herself at me.

"I _love_ you!"

"Yes, yes," I said, patting her hair before Joy's little cough brought her back to her senses and Winry got the hint.

"I'll go down first and wait for you!" Winry said, bounding out the door. "I'll protect your portion from stupid Ed's grabby hands! Your breakfast is safe with me!"

Then the whirlwind of energy descended down the stairs, where the faint clatter of the kitchen got momentarily disturbed as Winry reached the shrill heights of a child's 'indoor voice', insisting Sarah and Yuriy to look at her new braid, and I finally let myself slump a bit on the bed.

"How do kids have so much energy?" I asked aloud, and Joy's only response was to finish calibrating the settings to a machine that could clear my lungs if needed (I think) or do something about reading something or…

Yeah, maybe I should pay attention to the machines that literally save my life time and time again and learn what they did, haha.

"You're a kid too, Marlon," Joy turned to me, before motioning me closer, and I obliged. "I'm happy you're getting along so well with Winry. Do you like her?"

"She's very nice," I said as I tracked two dots burst out of the house on the hill and race down the hill back to Winry's house. "I'm glad she's my first friend."

Joy's smile was a quiet, unrestrained one when she unwrapped the blood-pressure thing from the machine and started winding it around my arm.

"Although our accommodations didn't go as planned, maybe its better this way," Joy mused, as she pressed a button to make the air pump into it. "It was nice to catch up to Sarah and Yuriy."

We were silent throughout the rest of the things Joy wanted to check, before she asked me if I was up to going down the stairs – I said yes, because I think I could start jogging soon, if I continued to try my best – and down the stairs I was greeted to a close-knit family, like those perfect sitcom families they showed. Resembool had a lot of light-haired and light-coloured people, unlike Central which tended to me more dark (case in point – the dark hair Joy and I sported), so it was really picturesque. All these blonde haired, multi-coloured eyed kids with two blonde adults in a clean kitchen, with morning sunlight streaming in…

Yesterday, I was catching a train from a father who was caught up in some political conspiracy heading out to a rapidly growing civil war, from a city hospital that refused to treat dark-skinned patients with red eyes. Today, I was wearing my one blue dress about to step into domestic bliss _without_ my most important person in this life. I stiffened my upper lip though, because he'd given me this chance for a _reason_. And I was going to be happy, dammit.

"Marlon, I saved you a seat!" Winry waved, nearly knocking her elbow into Ed's face, and his golden eyes flashed in annoyance through a mouthful of food.

"Hey, watch it!" He scowled, swiping another cup of juice guzzle it down with something else. "Your elbow nearly hit my face!"

"Well, if your face wasn't so fat, I wouldn't have gone near it!" Winry shot back. Quite a 180 change from her shyness from yesterday, I noted as I drew nearer.

Al, the nice, quieter one I knew I would probably befriend easily, was sitting quietly and thanking Sarah and Urey for the meal.

"Thanks for the meal, Aunt Sarah, Uncle Yuriy," I commented as I slid into the seat next to Winry's, as Joy settled down in her own seat next to Sarah and I eyed the food on the table. Eggs, sausages, some soup for me just in case the food got too heavy.

"Thank you, dear. Now, eat up. You're a little too skinny, I fear," Sarah said with a smile, and I nodded politely as I started heaping some eggs on my plate because _eggs_ , eggs are _real_ food and I missed it, no matter how much I appreciated the hospital. They weren't very spiced up too, which was extra nice.

"The sausages are nice too, Marlon!" Winry pointed, and I looked over and noticed that Winry had oily stains _all over_ her mouth, and a huge milk moustache too.

"Winry, wipe your mouth a bit," I encouraged, holding up a napkin, and Winry was taking it when there was a laugh on the other side.

"Pfft! Winry, you got yourself your own Al!"

Winry clenched the napkin in her fist and quickly wiped her mouth, before whirling around to face Ed.

"What do you mean _'your own Al'?_ Are you telling me I'm as rude as _you_ are?"

"What?" Ed puffed up. "I'm not _rude_. Tell her, Al!"

Al was busy eating some eggs and didn't reply immediately, but when he did it was with an extremely nice and sincere smile.

"Oh, brother. I don't like lying, you know?"

I looked appreciatively at the boy then, sitting across the table with the nicest smile.

"Your sense of humour is incredibly advanced," I complimented, and Al's eyes twinkled as he bit into the last bit of his sausage.

"Thank you," he replied, and he just lodged himself into my heart more because what type of two year old had 'advanced' in their vocabulary? Hanging around these kids wouldn't be as hard as I thought.

"Y-you, you guys are all ganging up on me!" Edward protested. "Al, I thought you'd be on my side!"

"I'm sorry, brother," Al immediately apologised. "But no matter how much you try to distract me, I'll still tell Mum if you don't drink your milk."

Oh, this kid was _harsh_.

Edward glared at his untouched cup with incredibly frustration.

"I…I don't want to."

" _Brother,"_ Al grinned. "I'll tell Winry all about that time last week if you don't drink."

Edward glugged down the milk so fast, I was tempted to applaud.

But now Winry was curious. "What? What aren't you guys telling me? Ed? Al?"

Edward, who had been washing his mouth with orange juice in an attempt to rid his mouth of the taste of milk gave Al the side eye. _Don't tell her,_ it clearly said, _I drank the milk._ Al nodded. _I won't, brother!_ His own eyes replied, and they both subsided into friendly banter while Winry just huffed to the side, frustrated, and turned to me instead.

Hmm. Maybe this was why Winry wanted a female friend?

"Let's go out to play together later!" Winry said happily. "I really want to show you that warren of bunnies we found yesterday's yesterday!"

"The day before, hun," Yuriy absentmindedly corrected as he continued glancing through the day's paper. I noticed the tiny fine script on the corner nearest to me though.

' _Obituaries: pgs 19-22. Cretan 19-20, Ishval 20-21…'_

I knew Joy was watching me – it was one of her mad skills from being nurse, being aware even sleep-deprived – and so I ignored what I noticed and replied to Winry and made some small talk with Al and Ed.

Apparently Trisha wanted to meet me (they'd mentioned me when they'd asked about eating breakfast at the Rockbells), so Ed was particularly forceful at inviting me.

Mama's boy, I snickered in my head, but I agreed anyway.

When the door opened and out stepped a woman with the most gentle smile I've ever seen on man, _yes_ , I understood how those boys could love their mother so much.

"Hi, I'm Trisha," she smiled, bending down with her hands on her knees and looking at my face. She did none of the typical adult things, with eyes that lingered on my shallow cheeks and my disgusting complexion (even Sarah and Yuriy did it for a few seconds before forcing their eyes away), or the fact that my hair was slightly patchy and thin. She just stared at my eyes and talked to me like I was worth listening to. "What's your name?"

"Marlon, Mrs Elric," I replied, giving a small bow and offering a hand for her to shake. Her eyes crinkled at the edges to fold into wrinkles that were already forming, laughing crow's feet, as she took it.

"Nice to meet you, Marlon. Call me Aunt Trisha. You've met Ed and Al, right?"

The two boys had been hanging to her side, wanting to jump into the conversation but barely hanging back. At Trisha's look of approval at their conduct, they jittered with happy energy.

We made small talk as Trisha insisted on letting me inside for a bit so she could patch some things for us to eat as they allowed us to romp in the fields of Resembool. Joy had given the three a stern talking to about how I was still 'recovering' (which led to a weak-ass explanation as to why I was sick, something about a weak immune system or something) so they were extra careful with me.

"Are you alright, Marlon?" Winry asked, gladly swinging our joined hands. I nodded and squeezed her hand as a reply, and Ed gave the action a scoff about how 'girly' it was, before Winry retorted that Ed was happy enough to do it with Trisha when they went shopping (then Ed went red, started retorting, Al tried damage control, and I tried to stop a laugh). Around then, Trisha wandered back in with a small cloth basket that Winry gladly took.

"I packed your favourites in there, plus a few extra snacks," Trisha smiled with a wink. "Now go on! Children should be outside, playing in the sun!"

She playfully shooed us outside, but not before giving all four of us a soft, motherly hug.

As I walked away from their house, I said to Ed, "Your mother is really awesome."

Ed puffed with pride, as Al smiled. "Yeah! Of course! Our mum is the _best mum ever!"_ Ed said, waving his hands in the air with a whoop and running forward, before sheepishly running back when he realised I couldn't follow. When he settled down again, Ed continued. "She cooks the best tomato soup I've ever tasted, you know? It's so the best!"

"Yeah! Brother's right, her tomato soup is the best! I also like her potato bake."

"And she makes up the _best_ stories when we go to sleep!" Ed said excitedly.

"We love her lots," Al said with a skip to his step, and I grinned.

"I can see why though," I mused as I thought about Trisha. "Aunt Trisha had a really nice smile. It was really gentle," I thought wistfully, now, once again, wondering at the blank spots in my memory. I wish I remembered – I probably had memories of my own mother smiling at me just like Trisha had with Ed and Al.

Ed nodded at me approvingly then, after I've given my review of his mother. "You're not bad, Marlon. It's very soon, but I approve of you joining the coolest band of friends on this side of Resembool! We're still deciding on what to call our group though, so you can wait for your formal induction ceremony later."

"Oh, thanks," I replied in surprise.

Winry leaned around me to give Ed a punch on the arm.

"Who made _you_ leader, Ed? I could've already invited her!"

"But you _didn't_ , I know you didn't!"

Winry puffed her cheeks out then, because it was true, and Al just laughed. "Brother, remember what mum said. Be nice to girls!"

Ed immediately shot back a, "I _am_ being nice! And who said Winry was a girl, anyway?"

I couldn't fully suppress my wry grin at that, because even Al couldn't damage control Winry after _that_ statement until I linked my arm with hers (a hand-hold wasn't strong enough to hold her anymore) and told her how pretty she was.

We weren't allowed to go _that_ far (we were still young), and the farthest corner of the field that linked to Winry's house was the threshold we weren't allowed to cross.

There, we ate biscuits and gawked at baby rabbits. Ed and Al, surprisingly, talked about the water cycle when they stared at clouds instead of anything normal like 'what shape is that cloud', and I think I jumped a few esteem points with all three when I added my own contribution to the discussion, ' _Ed, Al, you're forgetting about ground-water,'_ while explaining anything Winry didn't understand to her, because Ed had no patience and Al always got dragged into his brother's pace. _'You know ice, Winry? Well, all things have three forms. Like, there's the ice you can eat. It's solid right? It's hard, like dirt. Then you have water, which you can drink…'_

We went to Trisha's for lunch, where we only ate with Trisha because Ed and Al's dad was busy with something in his study and couldn't come out yet.

One thing came out from that lunch.

Trisha was a _goddess_ for handling four highly intelligent but energetic children so well.

* * *

 **Yay, meetings! :DD**

 **I can't promise anything, I am _so sorry_ , to all those people who faved and reviewed and alerted I love you so much but university is literally killing me. I have an exam tomorrow, WHY AM I HERE? Ah procrastination. The things you do to me. But I've used this time to solidify a few ideas. ^^ Thank you for reading this chapter, I hope this was alright. My sister was just complaining about how _slow_ I start stories and... yeah, I, after I reflected, I realised that too ahahahaha. Thank you very much again. See you guys soon, hopefully. **


	4. Interim

Trisha was a wonderful mother. Although Hohenheim (and wasn't that a weird name?), who was Ed and Al's father kept himself so secluded I haven't actually seen him once, Trisha was a mother that was the omniscient kind, kind of naggy when worried, had the most beautiful smile, slightly cheeky, and was always wonderfully _there_ in a way a lot of parents tried to be but failed.

She was there when Ed tripped and skinned his knees, getting some bandages and kissing the pain away, before teasing Ed a little, because Ed had tripped on the path running up their hill towards her. She called Al weird, cutesie nicknames like 'munchkin', and 'twinkletoes' which always made Al laugh. Ed always made faces at that because he'd proudly told her to call him "Ed!" because he was 'old enough' when in truth he missed his own silly nicknames.

And because I wasn't actually a child, I observed when she was there and patient even when she wasn't at her best. When her eyebrows were furrowed with annoyance, or when she was obviously not having the best day, she'd still smile and laugh with Ed and Al (and in extension, me and Winry) over their small childish victories—like who picked the prettiest flower, or who could finish their ABCs the fastest. And that, I admit, was the thing that made me admire Trisha out of everyone that I've known here, barring my dad Alain.

Trisha, I felt, was the definition of a super-mum, capable of chores, caring for her farm, her children, and still have energy and life to care and _laugh_.

And so, of course, because me being me, I was a blubbering idiot around such a wonderfully competent person. She was probably only a few years older than me - she was only around twenty-ish - but she was so _motherly_ that I just instinctively shirked back into old habits of worming around the nearest obstacle (Winry) before I could talk coherently. She thought it was one of my weird, quirky habits, and just went with it. Thankfully.

I think everyone in her circle were all slightly in love with Trisha. She was just so (I will never use this to describe another person again) _lovely._ And that particularly showed, I personally thought, in Ed and Al.

As much as Al and Ed were, undoubtedly, a unit, they were also such _happy_ children.

Like, thinking back. Hmm, it was a Wednesday in late summer, where I'd been around the three for two months or so. We'd seen each other practically every day, and for as little as I thought we would connect because of… obvious reasons, we did. Trisha had brought out a slightly dusty board game from their game shelf next to the fireplace when we all whined it was too _hot_ to go outside.

To my surprise, it was a game very similar to Monopoly. We played the kids version, of course – whoever bought the territory kept it, you paid tax, and whoever had the most money at the end won.

"I'm banker!" Ed shouted, taking out all the fake money and hogging it. "And I said it first, so you guys were just too slow!" He grinned at us, somehow still brimming with energy even though it was _so hot_. I took a breath of slightly muggy air and made a face, plopping my overheated self down next to Al.

"No fair, brother!" Al complained, whose heart wasn't in it because he was sweating through his shirt and was looking longingly at the glimpse of the fridge we could see from Ed and Al's living room. "You always cheat!"

"Yeah, take that back! Mal should be the banker!" Winry protested, already trying to tug the stack of rubber-banded notes out of Ed's hands. Ed's face instantly scowled. Ed had been the slowest to warm up to me, even though he eventually did – I think he was just jealous that Winry liked me so much. But then he also realised I was (secretly) a lump of pure laziness, and just took unholy glee in taking advantage of the fact.

"Mal doesn't care!" Ed argued back. "Right, Mal?" When he turned to stare at me, Winry made a preemptive jab at trying to steal the notes. Ed scowled and shuffled away, and all I did was give them my most smiling, pleasant, grin.

"Hmm?" _I don't want to be banker but I'm always on Winry's side so do you really want to bet on those chances, Ed?_ But by then Ed was already busy arguing that _he_ was the best counter out of all of us to Winry, and Winry was gearing up to arguing back when Al and I shared a glance.

Al was too hot, and I wanted to be lazy.

"Winry should be banker!" We called out in unison, and Ed turned betrayed eyes at us even though Winry stopped, a little flustered.

"You always cheat, brother," Al just pointed out placidly. "I said that before, right?"

"You'll be a great banker, Winry!" I cheered her on, and Winry shot Ed the biggest triumphant look before giving a giggle as she sat across from Al on the third side of the board. Al had been setting up the actual board game while I watched the other two bickering.

Al was such a good kid!

Ed only sulked until he realised that we'd all waited for him to choose his icon first – he brightened up then, scooting closer to us as he chose the tiny metal dog. Al chose a coat, Winry a top hat, and I chose a tank because it was there.

Ed reamed us all, and when Trisha came in, it was to his victorious smile. Al just didn't care anymore, having rolled off the rug and onto the cool wooden floor. Winry was pouting at the five hundred cenz she had left (one cenz was like one cent, and five-hundred cenz was just about enough to buy a cup of tea) and I packing up the board game.

"I won!" Ed bounced towards Trisha, hugging her leg. She gasped with a smile, before lifting Ed up to give him a hug.

"Good job, Ed!" Trisha congratulated, heading out the door. "For that, do you want to choose what ice-cream you want first?"

Al gave a little twitch of life at the sound of 'ice-cream'. It was surprisingly expensive here, and was always a nice treat to have in summer. Winry dropped the fake cenz she'd been angsting over and hauled herself up. Then her warm sweaty grip latched onto my arm and hauled _me_ up too.

"Come on, Mal!" Winry said with single-minded determination, her eyes on the prize. I.e., her eyes looking straight past Ed's gloating face and at the kitchen. "We can't let Ed get extra scoops!"

Al gave another twitch of life at the sound of 'extra scoops'.

"Al, you'll miss out!" I called out to him as I followed Winry's patter of footsteps.

Al shot to his feet and passed us with a yell of, "Brother, leave some for me!"

When we arrived in the kitchen, Trisha, of course, was entirely fair and gave us all equal helpings with a funny smile on her face when I accidentally flicked some ice-cream onto Winry's face and she didn't get angry over it, just laughed. Ed made a thoughtless remark, _'Winry, you're too nice to Mal!"_ and Winry frowned, _'I'm_ always _nice, aren't I, Ed?"_ and I just helped Winry wipe the ice-cream off her cheek. Al was single-mindedly eating ice-cream and squirming with relief.

Ed and Al's situation – even though their dad always seemed absent – was different to Winry's.

Winry's parents were there in the mornings, nights, and sometimes in the afternoons, but Sarah and Yuriy were the only two doctors around for _miles_ , and a lot of the time, they weren't just treating stuff for the village, but they also had to travel for house calls and emergencies. There weren't any hospitals here, and there might have been other doctors not in the war, but _surgeons_ were truly rare in a country where doctors were already in scarce supply. After a few months of living with them, I think I understood that maybe, they were actually the only highly qualified surgeons left in the Eastern countryside near-ish Ishval that hadn't already volunteered for the war or left for Central.

I think that scarcity of professionals, along with Winry, were basically the only reasons that kept Yuriy and Sarah from volunteering their service.

I also met Pinako, who was this tiny grandma who basically tutted and fed me too much the minute I met her, and understood how Winry could've been lonely, no matter how much Pinako doted on her. As much as Yuriy and Sarah obviously loved Winry they were also doctors, and because they took that very seriously, they had really irregular schedules. I'd only stayed here for five months or so, but I couldn't count the number of times they'd been called out at late hours of the morning, for some emergency or other.

They'd miss breakfast, or dinner, or some sort of promise – but Winry ultimately understood because she was way more mature than me when _I_ was a child. One time I asked, when both Yuriy and Sarah were out of the house and Joy was washing the dishes, "Were you lonely, before me and Joy came?"

That night I had been staring up at the plaster ceiling, wondering about my very first best friend and her sunny smiles.

I wondered who washed the dishes when Yuriy and Sarah got called away during dinner. Winry was so small. Maybe Winry made her lone way up the hill to Trisha's to stay overnight, because taking a late night walk to Pinako's was a little too far. Maybe Pinako came to Winry's with a quick phone call.

Maybe Winry tucked herself in at night with her many, many toys, and I felt inexplicably sad.

"I dunno," Winry replied back then, sleepily. Autumn was starting to really set in then, and she'd crept into my bed with her blanket, so we were extra warm. "Ma and Da are doctors, you know?"

I didn't think that really answered the question, but with how fast and how little Winry thought of my question as she answered, maybe it did.

Her little hands were always slightly sticky, and that night they'd grabbed onto my hair. The hands were still tangled there that morning, because we were both still sleepers. When I blinked myself awake, as always a little before dawn, I'd kept myself still and listened to Winry breathe.

In. Out.

In.

Out.

She murmured something about butterflies, and I wiggled my toes against cotton sheets.

Oh, Winry. I couldn't, (still wouldn't) know how to describe what she meant to me. Such a tiny girl. So much spirit. This would sound sentimental, but she made me laugh with feeling, and that is a gift that I don't think I could ever really repay.

But enough of my character analysis! Moving on, I still thought it was hilarious that Sarah kept gushing when she shook us both awake. It made me crack up in gasps of laughter each time I woke up with Sarah crouching on the side of the bed with the most conflicted expression on her face, of whether to wake her daughter and her friend up for breakfast, or to enjoy cute childish cuteness a little more.

It was nice to have them near though, because they were excellent doctors. Although there was some contention over the coming seasons (I'd come in the last weeks of spring, and autumn was now making the world dry and crispy), they predicted if I kept building up strength, winter shouldn't hit my lungs _that_ hard.

Hopefully.

Joy kept to herself sometimes, even though she took care of me unfailingly, and had a warm relationship with Yuriy and Sarah. I think she was still struggling with the concept of being an 'auntie' that had basically stepped into the role of my mum. I appreciated how stressful that could be, so I gave her the space she needed. Joy had been the _younger_ sister, so she was actually in her middle-twenties. I tried to make her life as easy as it could, while struggling with my own fits of psyche.

Because yeah. Adapting to life in a full home was, in fact, sometimes overwhelming. Winry helped the most, but Al and Ed were so unfailingly cheerful – with a few spots of short temper from Ed of course. I still don't understand all that vendetta against milk.

Now it was mid-autumn and because we weren't farmers, Yuriy and Sarah were less affected by seasonal crops and stuff. But the village as a whole was busy preparing for winter, selling wares, repairing barns and houses. Life went on, days flew by. I slowly got better, and I found out that Winry was stricter about my health than _I_ ever was.

I'd thought I was healing back at Central, in the slow, white room in the hospital. With a dad that tried so hard with a daughter, and me reaching out to him as the only human contact worth having.

Resembool was filled with colour – the green seas of grass, and the white and black of the odd cow or sheep wading in them. The gold of the hair of my friends that glimmered in different shades of wealth, and my favourite shade of blue in the sky. Here, I had a friend who was (admittedly) three years old. Unassuming and slightly self-centred, Winry made me a part of her world like Alain did.

I couldn't help but cherish that.

One day in early autumn, I was lying on the short-cropped grass outside the house, just enjoying the sunlight on my face. The grass had been half-yellowed by then. Winry was baking pie with Joy, Ed and Al, but because of flour hazards I'd elected to opt out. The sound of a cow bell rang as a cow shuffled in a nearby field hunting for grass, while the wind elected to blow softly against house to make the kitchen curtains blow out with a billow and a snatch of Winry and Ed's arguing.

It was such a moment of contentment that I suddenly felt afraid, because I couldn't believe that this could be real.

Still couldn't, in a way. Sometimes, I wondered if this wasn't still a hallucination from when I was in solitary with only Truth to talk to. I tilted my face to the moving shadows of the kitchen, smiled back at a Winry who was teetering on a stool waving at me and called out a question in my head.

Hey, Truth. What was the price of happiness?

In the silence of the answer, the door creaked open and Al stuck his head out with a grin and prints of flour all over his shirt. He called me to come in already, because I was missing out all the good stuff, and so I rolled myself up and trotted to the door obediently.

Joy's slightly exasperated expression as she washed the dishes, and the sight of Winry and Ed giving it their all as they elbowed each other – the feel of Al tugging my elbow with extra bounce in his skip. All of these made my fear melt away, and I allowed myself to laugh as I joined in on ribbing Ed. He pouted, but he'd already been moving the flour away from me since I joined their group, snarking back even while elbowing me out of the way of the unwiped floury counter-tops.

If only every day could last like this, I remembered thinking.

If only.

* * *

In late autumn, they said that if I was better, I would go to school when spring came.

I had good feelings at the concept of going to school. If all three of the children I first met were so brilliant, maybe the trend continues throughout this world? Maybe that's why Joy didn't react so much about my 'genius', because it was kind of common in this world?

Because in all my spotty, and extremely unreliable memories, all I remembered of children were. Well. Just got to say it, you know?

Stupidity.

I know, I know. Children right. I mean, as babies, they didn't even have vision, and after they did get vision they didn't have object permanence or depth perception. So all these babies, they're just exploring before BAM, one day they're like 'ooh my playing blocks look three-dimensional and not just feel that way', while struggling with the concept that yes, their mothers didn't actually abandon them the second they walked through the door.

And think about it. Before cognitive thought, those toddler-babies were tubs of instinctive, growing, human process, their brains developing at large rates to learn how to process sensory information (what? Touch? Auditory? There are links between touching something and sounds? _Dude_ , the baby brain would say, _I'm so mindblown_ ), where their only actions were sleeping, crying, eating, and generating lots of poop. So much poop. They're such poop machines.

As anyone may have noticed, I am not a fan of children. No shame. In fact, there's only some recognition of personhood after they could string some sort of babble together _coherently_. That was around two to three.

Like Alphonse, my second favourite kid of the group. He was such a wonderful person to talk to.

It was like… talking to sunshine. Like _purity_.

(I would, and will, sing praises of Alphonse for as long as needed).

All of my friend's babble back on Earth, about how pure and beautiful children were (when, in fact, the sound of children's laughter always wanted to make me sit them down and tell them that life, yes kid, life is about suffering and monotonous drudgery underneath government institutions), were in fact _validated_ when I talked to Alphonse.

Like this.

"Hey, Al," I'd puffed, having given up jogging halfway up a hill while the other three raced all the way up to a tree. I was collapsed on the side. Ed, having lost, was puffed up about it and was challenging Winry to another race. Al, however, had come back down and sat next to me with a beautifully blinding smile.

"Are you okay, Mal?" He asked cheerfully. I was blinded by his consideration and thoughtfulness. I hadn't been this considerate even when I was fifteen, _and he was just a toddler_. I may, or may not, have let a little of that amazement leak into my manner as I leaned into him.

"You're so wonderful, Al," I replied seriously back, because it had to be said.

"Ummmm… Does that mean you're okay?"

His innocent question stabbed me in the heart, because the running commentary in _my_ head had mostly been me cursing about how unfit I still was in a very… eloquent manner. Maybe some of I had been unduly directed at Al.

Yes. Eloquent was the way to put it. I'm so sorry, Al!

"It's your third birthday soon, isn't it?" I asked instead of replying to the question, because I was still kind of ashamed at my lack of fitness. Winry ran so many circles around me, I swear. But for some reason she still looked up to me, which made me work really hard, which made Joy smile, which _then_ made me slightly huffy because _I'm not actually three thank you very much._

"Yeah! You and Winry are totally invited to lunch at our place!" Al's following smile was a small secret one then, as he leaned forward. " _Me and mama plan to make a lot of dry cookies so brother would need to dip them in his milk,"_ he whispered, and I laughed at the thought. "Don't tell him though, okay?"

"Don't tell me what?" Ed's voice rang out over our heads, and Al stood up with the cheekiest smile known to man. Ed was standing with his hands on his hips, his eyebrow cocked up in a demand for an answer.

"Not telling~" He sang as he skipped away, and Ed's face turned into a scowl.

"Tell me now, Al!"

"Nope!" Al got up, brushed off his pants, and with a cheeky grin and a skip in his step, he ran away. Ed turned towards me for an answer, and I gave him my brattiest grin and pointed.

"If you don't chase Al, he'll get away~"

Ed and I both knew I was just taking full advantage of the fact that no-one was allowed to rough-house me. Also, Winry gave it twice as hard back if they messed with me _or_ her, so… kudos for me!

"You don't play fair, Mal!" Ed yelled over his shoulder, before tripping on a stray rock. When Ed lay there without moving, Al – who hadn't run far at all, immediately came jogging back in concern. Of course, from his angle, he didn't see Ed's conniving face as he struggled to contain malicious glee. Oh, Ed. I tried to keep a straight face.

"Brother! Are you okay?"

When Al was two steps away, Ed burst up and tackled his brother.

"Hah! Tell me what you know, or I'll never tell you where the _Sebastian Tales_ are!"

Al froze, before he gave the most adorable, chubbish glare. Ed comically froze too, with the biggest _oops_ face. "Brother, you _hid_ my book? I thought I lost it!"

"Uh… Last one to the tree is the biggest jerkface!"

"Come back here, brother! Where did you hide _Sebastian Tales!_ "

"What are they doing?" Winry asked with an exasperated huff as she plopped down beside me, her cheeks red from a combination of the wind and lots of running, watching Al and Ed trying to tickle each other into submission a few steps from the start of their failed race. It was one of their favourite methods of trying to get each other to give in, and it was hilarious.

I leaned in and told Winry softly what Al told me, and what happened afterwards – I found it hard to keep these kind of things from her – and Winry's face split into the same conniving grin as Al's.

"Ehehehe," she chuckled, "I'm looking forward to _that."_

A few metres away, Ed shrieked when Al pulled on his bangs. Ed retaliated by trying to roll Al – he failed, and the fight had already turned from vengeful to playful, because Al was giggling when he mock punched Ed's shoulder.

Pfft. Ed torn between milk and cookies? Of course I was looking forward to it!

The next week, a smiling Trisha invited the Rockbells, Joy and I to eat lunch at her place because dinner (Ed had declared to me with his proud, slightly smug grin) was going to be a family _surprise_ thing.

When I stepped into the house with Winry, who was already heading towards the living room where we usually played, I saw a blonde man I didn't recognise. He sat at the table staring at Ed and Al with a complicated smile on his mouth, eyes both filled with nostalgic sadness and joyful wondering. It was only when Trisha bustled towards the adults behind me that the man tore his eyes away from the children to us guests crowded at his doorway.

When he rose, it was obvious at first that he was intending to greet us all normally.

And then his eyes narrowed as his brow wrinkled with a confused frown. Absentmindedly, he adjusted his glasses, as he slowly started inspecting Joy. When something appeared unsatisfactory, he observed Sarah and Yuriy, giving them a nod as he came over, before his gaze landed on me. That was when he paused, blinking in slow surprise.

"What are you?" was the first thing he ever said to me, crouching to my level a few paces back. I noticed he put Trisha slightly behind him, like I was somehow dangerous.

I stared back at his golden eyes, my own features calculative. Something about this man was so… _familiar._

I was no idiot. What undeniable proof lay right in front of my eyes, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

 _Two golden twins, and a ruined civilisation. One cried as he staggered away. Another burned with anger. Headed in separate directions, sins guilty and fresh. Mother, Truth, mother._

"What do you mean, 'what are you?'" Joy asked tightly, a hand curling around my shoulder protectively. "I hope you just misphrased your greeting, Mr Elric." Sarah and Yuriy were silent, in the awkward way when people tried to make themselves unnoticed. I kept staring (gold eyes, like Edward—the connection had been there all this time?) and he kept waiting, his mouth a solemn line.

Trisha looked between the both of us, stepped around him to put a soothing hand on Joy's arm to soothe her, and gave her husband a calm look before hustling us all into the kitchen. "Today is Alphonse's birthday, and nothing will ruin that. You hear me?"

Hohenheim nodded, and apologised to me. Joy accepted it stiffly, and I just shrugged it off before going to play with the three kids upstairs with my mind whirring.

That was how I first met Van Hohenheim.

* * *

The next week came the first chill, and the first hint of what promised to be a rainy winter.

It was also when I met Hohenheim again, sitting on the house veranda on a chair.

He was staring at a family photo – his fingers gently cradling the piece of paper. It was probably from the photographer that came through Resembool a few days before. Through the cracked window, I heard the sounds of Ed and Al reading children's books that were technically for ten year olds with Trisha, who was trying her best to give voices to the characters.

My lungs hurt that morning, so I hadn't gone with Winry when she went to Pinako's house down the road, which also served as her automail shop. It was a surprisingly big house for one lone grandma, but then she also had a lot of technical equipment in her labs. Apparently Winry's Grandpa had died only two years before Winry was born, and Yuriy and Sarah had moved and built their own doctor's clinic a few years before _that_. Pinako always insisted she wasn't lonely. I remember the first time I met her.

My three year old head, to my eternal amusement (that I didn't dare express), reached her stomach. She was _so short_.

"So you're the girl Winry's been gushing about. What's your name, squirt?" Pinako leaned towards me, her breath smelling slightly of some type of fragrant smoke.

"Hello, Winry's grandma!" I greeted with my widest grin, determined to make a good impression. I noted that all the windows of the house were open, and that there was a smoking pipe that was obviously left unused since the morning. Man. The Rockbells were just so _nice_. "My name is Marlon Crawford. It's nice to meet you."

"Another smart one, huh," Pinako puffed with a smile. "Well, those kids always wanted a new friend. Just call me Granny Pinako, or just Granny. You're the one who keeps braiding Winry's hair, right?"

"Uh, yes?" I replied, still carefully polite.

"Haha!" Pinako laughed, ushering me into her house warmly. "So you're why she wants to grow her hair a little longer now! She whined so much last time I helped her cut her hair, heh, that kid. She keeps asking me to teach her how to braid so she can braid your hair back too."

Really? I looked at my thin scrabbly hair – slowly starting to thicken a little now – and ignored it. "Well, Winry has really nice hair, and I think Ed likes it too because he keeps teasing her about it?"

"Kids and their pig-tail pulling," Pinako just snorted, before pulling up a chair which had a spread of morning tea on it. It was pretty rich for wartime – I've realised war hadn't really touched Resembool as hard as many other places. "Now eat while we wait for Winry to finish her morning lessons and join you."

I shrugged, sitting down but not touching the food yet. I saw some of Winry's favourite cakes in there, and eating was always nicer with more people.

"I'll wait for Winry, but thank you, Granny Pinako."

I knew she approved when Pinako's smile grew warmer after that, as she regaled me with tales of Winry doing weird stuff when she was a baby.

I was patting a dog named Den, who'd just squirmed between my legs for no apparent reason and sat there, when Winry burst in after finally finishing her reading tasks. I'd come first, because I finished first and got sent away by a laughing Sarah because I 'distracted Winry too much'. Joy had walked me to Pinako's house, of course, but she had to rush back because the clinic needed some assistance.

"Mal!" Winry glomped me, a foot accidentally nudging Den a little hard. "Oops, sorry Den."

Den barked, before wagging her tail and licking Winry's fingers when she offered them. Later, I learnt that Pinako had gotten Den when her husband died. She was a nice dog.

"Hi Winry," I said with my usual smile, always easier when she was there. "We waited for you!" I gestured towards the table still full of cooling food.

"Really? Yay!" Winry cheered, getting on her own seat and quickly grabbing a plate. "You and Granny are the _best_!"

I waited until Winry was about to take her first bite of cake when my smile got a little sly.

"Hey, Winry. Did you really like licking metal bolts because they looked like shiny candy—"

Pinako watched her granddaughter with amusement when Winry's whole body froze, as her face just turned a boiling hamster red, from the neck up. Winry always tried to boast all the best parts of herself in front of me, which was both adorably cute and an easy spot to tease all at once, and now watching her reaction I couldn't help it. I sniggered into my cake while Winry just pouted at me and whacked her Pinako in the arm. "Granny, you _promised!"_

"Hoho, did I?" Pinako cackled, and winked at me.

I liked Pinako. I liked _Resembool_.

And now, I plodded up the hill alone, because it was one of the treks the adults trusted us to do on our own. Winry deserved _some_ alone time with her grandma. We weren't actually as joined as the hip as Ed and Al were, okay?

"Hohenheim," I greeted, and he hummed an absent-minded response. A few seconds later, he looked up from his photo, tucking it safely in his inside breast-pocket.

"You're the friend," he replied solemnly, the lines of his face heavy in the way that some afternoon contemplations do. "Marlon Crawford."

I nodded without much pretence.

"You're touched by Truth," he said next.

I also nodded, and waited as he took me in. Too young, too sick. Unless…

"Did your sickness come from something Truth took from you?"

That would be the logical conclusion. To touch Truth was to touch God's domain, in which God was just the synonymous label for the matters beyond the human plane – and thus, beyond human ability. What is beyond human ability, however, was debatable until one subject.

Life.

There were alchemists who deconstructed fish, plants, animals to make other things. I heard of this amazing alchemist ten years ago, who could (with the right ingredients), make beautiful scale sculptures out of fish scraps, stuffing, leather, and bits of glass. But no-one could deconstruct a fish, and then put it back together again _alive_. Although technically all the physical components were there, and a truly dedicated alchemist could twist every molecule back into its previous place, the fish's _life_ itself would be gone.

Chimeric researchers try to flout this rule close to the line. What if you don't deconstruct the physical, but try to merge two different, _alive_ things? Biologically, the father of chimeric alchemy said some sixty years ago, foetuses across species are very similar, and there is compelling evidence as such that we have similar (if not the same) biological and evolutionary roots. It's been proven that a parrot's vocal chords could be merged with a cat's. A bird's wings could be transplanted to another bird – however, they wouldn't be able to fly. But they'd be _alive_.

But no, I thought idly. It wasn't _they_. It was _it._ Once merged, a chimera was a chimera – one living thing. Separating them back into two biological bodies would be impossible, because instead of just using the physical parts of an organism, they also merged the _soul_. For one, by adding the soul as a component in the merging, they trapped the soul before it went to unknown places, and two, they kept the 'aliveness' as a component in the result. As you can imagine, merging the soul is like mixing white and red paint to make pink. The pink paint would never be its primary colours again.

However, soul research was nebulous at this time – reading up on it in the numerous alchemical journals lying around in Ed and Al's house, chimeric research just sounded like they were mashing souls up willy nilly and studying what works. Right now, instant deaths after alchemical fusion was 70%, another 20% died within the week, and only 2% lived for two months and over. Animals have to be of similar biological structure – a fly's legs can't be attached to an elephant, for example. They seemed to have _just_ started to splice DNA so.

Why was I interested and ranting an inner monologue about this? Because it was fascinating. Because chimeric research was just a few small steps away from _human transmutation_ , and what am I? Truth's little interjection of a soul. My soul is bound by the circle of biological truth – the body itself is a circle, a representation of the flow of life—which in itself is a knowledge that no human can really obtain without reaching into Truth's domain. My soul is trapped in my body, because my body itself is the circle. My soul is foreign, yes, but the body itself didn't stop functioning.

When Truth told me, 'you're not dead', and I started sneaking peeks at basic alchemical theory and tallying it to all that Truth had told me, I understood.

Human transmutation usually fails because usually, people only attempt to do it when they're trying to resurrect the dead. Beyond the human world is Truth's world – the white space. Wherever the dead go, it's _beyond_ that. I was 'summoned' (if that is the right word) into the white space, and then tethered into a mortal body… somehow.

I was still hashing out the details, to be honest.

And I realised I spaced out and Hohenheim was still waiting for an answer. Surprisingly patiently. He sat there, on his wooden bench, strangely tranquil and picturesque with the reflection of a Resembool in yellowing autumn on the window behind him.

"No, my sickness isn't because of any price," I replied easily. Hohenheim's face grew a little grimmer at my admission that I've met Truth before. I wasn't going to let him have any misconceptions though, because communication was a skill that I was quite proud of, thank you very much. "I didn't pay any price, because I came here to right a wrong. I still can't really believe it but…"

I stopped being dramatic and just headed over to his bench, and sat next to him. "Hohenheim," I asked, "do you know anything about this old civilisation dying and parallel universes?"

Hohenheim grew rigid with shock, as his golden eyes bore down at me.

"What are you?" He asked again. "Your presence… It feels strange. You're not like me, if Den likes you. What can you be?"

"Den doesn't like you?" I asked in surprise. "Wait, how do you know whatever you said about my presence?"

"Edward loves talking about his friends at the table," Hohenheim replied, a smile lilting in his voice when he mentioned his son. "And no, Den senses that I am…not quite normal. She likes you, so you aren't another Philosopher's Stone, nor a homunculus."

Hohenheim had a weird way of speaking – like some parts of his mind was always somewhere else. He had the feeling that he wasn't all there.

"Philosopher's Stone? No," I dismissed, ready to ask about that later. "No, my soul is from another world. I have to free my Mother."

"Who is your mother?" Hohenheim asked the obvious question next, after he'd blinked the information that 'my soul is from another world' into his brain.

"Tell me who you are first. You aren't normal, you just stated. Tell me."

To tell the truth, the very fact that he did tell me was shocking. I'd expected more resistance. What he told me was extremely abbreviated, but he just stated that he got tricked, and he held half a population worth of souls in his body – creating a living 'Philosopher's Stone' that couldn't die. He'd wandered around for years.

"Until I found the love of my life, Trisha," Hohenheim said, all in that solemn monotone. "She is my light in the darkness, and I never felt true love until Pinako introduced us again. Her words are balm to my soul, and our first meeting was the first time in centuries that I felt someone understood me."

Also, Hohenheim was really sappy.

"Without Trisha, I would still be lost without a sense of what is important. She gave me everything I've ever wanted even without realising, and every day I wonder how I could have lived without her for so many years."

 _Really_ sappy.

I tuned him out and mulled over the information as Hohenheim went on, kicking the bench a little. Now that he'd told me some of his background, I reciprocated.

"The first clear memory I have is waking up in the world of Truth," I told him, cutting off his Trisha rant. "Quiet. Empty. White. Truth is not the realm of death, so you don't have to ask me if I died or not. Truth found me later on, and told me I was… summoned. By my mother, in desperation. Truth intervened a little, for reasons I still don't really understand, but when I was sent down into this body, Truth gave me these… images."

I told him shortly about what those images were – a city of rapidly expanding technology. A greedy king with lots of fears of transience. Crumbling. Two twins who looked mentally unbalanced.

"Somehow they're related to my mother, but I don't know, really. But you're probably the crying twin, right?"

Hohenheim hummed a low note into the afternoon. "No, he is not my twin. The other 'twin' is a homunculus, with the other half of the souls of Xerxes. And I think I may know… where your mother is."

As expected. Of course one of the golden not-twins would have a clue to my existence!

"I was one of the court alchemists, but I was not the most trusted," Hohenheim stated. "I knew enough, but not many secrets. However, there had been a few secret projects before the King became... obsessed with immortality. In one of those project rooms, I saw something once."

Trisha had taken the boys on a walk – they'd obviously came out of the house's back door after finishing their story, and they'd raced around the house to the front of the hill where Trisha was play-chasing them to distant shrieks of laughter. They were far away, still, and Hohenheim's eyes tracked them as he talked.

"I saw a talking metal vessel. It was crying, 'let me go home'. I asked a fellow apprentice what that vessel was, and I remembered him shrugging as he replied that it was just a recently successful project to let Xerxes grow greater. That year, they realised how to pour concrete, and this system called double-entry book-keeping was introduced. A lot of new, foreign ideas seemed to come from nowhere. It was a year… of great industry. I thought there was a correlation beforehand but."

That metal vessel… Well, in _purely theoretical_ terms, iron wasn't so alien to the human constitution. Souls could _technically_ be attached to them...

"That's probably my mother," I concluded because it made sense and I had nothing else to go on. "My mission is to free her. Do you know where she might be?"

"I've befriended all the souls in my existence," Hohenheim replied, expression a little far away again. "Your mother is not here."

In his stories, all souls in Xerxes (without exception) were sucked into either Hohenheim or Homunculus. Iron wasn't foreign to humans, but it wasn't a very strong link either. It held that if my mother stayed in whatever metal vessel her summoners had forced her into, her soul and the metal would have rejected in the last four hundred years, and I wouldn't have been summoned in the first place.

My mother was probably with the Homunculus – the golden twin I'd dubbed 'insane'.

Great. Wow. Yay.

"Do you know where Homunculus could be?"

Hohenheim stood up to greet Trisha, who was coming up the hill with a dazzling sort of wind-swept smile, before he accidentally stepped on the tail of his trench-coat and flailed as he tripped forward. He landed face-first in some pot plants, but turned his face to me, looking totally unruffled anyway.

Pffft. I tried to keep my face straight.

"No," he replied though, totally uncaring about what he looked like. "I don't know where he could be. I'm truly sorry."

* * *

Later, I would wonder if God really did exist, even though I knew God – or as much as God could _be_ in this world – was a douchebag with too much teeth that spoke in a whale-choir noises. Hohenheim _just_ happened to be in the town I moved to. Alain _just_ happened to be my dad. Winry _just_ became one of the people I cared about most. That I knew Ed and Al before the world crushed them.

Ah, providence. The more things unexplained, the more I _want_ to believe there was a God that's kind and benevolent and loves me (not just humanity, but _me_ as well). But here, God was Truth, and Truth cared for nothing but Balance and well.

I think I'd been good at science, in my last life.

* * *

"And _what_ , exactly, are you reading?" I asked with bemusement all over my face as I struggled to see over the oxygen mask clamped to my face.

Winter had not been kind. The second the season shifted, BAM, I was sick. As I'd been relatively healthy for the half year I'd been here, watching Winry, Ed and Al panic _would_ have been hilarious if I'd been able to think beyond my lung pain and vomiting sessions. I had pneumonia, and the three hadn't been allowed in my room for the greater part of a month while I had tubes stuck down my throat. Joy and Winry swapped beds during my sickness so that Winry didn't catch anything and Joy could take care of any night-time emergencies. During this time, frost crackled along the windowsill when winter deepened, a portable heater stuck in my room to help me recover as much as possible.

Sarah and Yuriy were godsends. I don't think this body would've lived without them – they caught the signs of my impending sickness way earlier than any of us did.

Also, since my birthday was in winter, I spent it in my room sick. Fun.

I was better now though, the pneumonia treated and bacteria burnt out. My lungs were just still really weak, so I was in perpetual bedrest with the oxygen machine close at hand. I still found it really difficult to sleep with the mask on.

But hey, look on the bright side! At least masks weren't really intrusive, disgusting-feeling tubes!

Once I got better, enough that the children had been allowed to come see me, one was practically always inside my room. Today, it was Ed.

"It's one of the books from dad's study," Ed said with a big grin. "It's talking about elements and this energy stuff! Dad's an alchemist, and I'm kinda curious what it's all about."

Ed, surprisingly, liked reading to me. When Ed read, all his energy calmed down as he stumbled over very, very few words in his young age. Right now, he was reading the equivalent of a high-school chemistry textbook.

"Well, I'm going to read the periodic table out now!" Ed said with a frown. "I'll try my best to see which ones I remember! Okay. Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen…fluorine?" He stopped there, before I prompted him.

"Neon is number nine." Ed clicked his fingers then.

"Of course! Right, don't interrupt me Mal, I'm reciting!"

I gave him a double-thumbs up, and Ed just shook his head before continuing.

"Sodium, magnesium, aluminium, silicon…"

Generally, everything was the same as I remembered. Ed's recital, sitting on the comfy chair that someone had dragged in, didn't have any weird names that I've never heard before.

Good. I'd been wondering about that.

To my surprise though, Ed stopped the elemental table at 'Radium', number 88.

"There's no more?" I asked curiously, after holding up a hand to stop Ed from reading and huffing up enough a breath to speak. Ed had that worried little frown again, his little fingers all clenched up like he wanted to do something.

Silly Ed. He loved his superheros too much. I swear his primary life-motto was 'if you can't do something, just break the rules!' He sure did it enough with pseudo-monopoly., the cheater.

"Nope!" Ed after a few beats, and pasted on a painfully cheerful smile. "You think there's more elements people haven't discovered, Mal?"

I _knew_ there were more. The most famous, of course, being uranium. The potentials that unstable metal could bring. Imagine alchemy destroying the bonds in that large molecule! It would be…

 _Disastrous._

"Sure! Maybe we can discover and name any new elements we find, Ed! With Al and Winry, of course."

Ed wrinkled his nose. " _Maaaaybe_. But Winry wants to be a doctor. Maybe Al could join our research team! But first," he insisted, patting my sheets down ineffectually because Ed never really did understand the concept of 'tucking people in'. "You have to get better, Mal!"

"I will!" I said with a strong fist-pump, before regretting all my life choices as my dry throat begged to be scratched. Oh, coughing. The bane of my life.

Ed just sighed, like I was an idiot (well, _excuse you, Ed)_ before calling in Joy.

"Aunt Jooooy! Mal is coughing again!"

Shoot. Joy was absolutely anal with sleep and rest. I gave Ed my best, masked evil eye. Ed just gave me a shrug and a grin, before hopping off the stool.

"Bye, Mal! See you tomorrow!"

Joy swept into the room with a flick of her braided ponytail, giving me an assessing glance.

"Hi, Joy," I greeted with a small wave. "It's not that serious, believe me!"

"You actually don't look too bad," she smiled, tucking a loose corner of the blanket when she neared as Ed failed to do. "Let me hear your chest again, just in case."

The stethoscope turned out okay results, so I got the all clear. Instead of bustling off, Joy sat next to me instead. Her green eyes were calming as she stroked hair off my forehead. "I've got a surprise for you."

She lugged an old record player into the room.

"I bought it off a cheap auction," she said while setting it up in the corner, next to my oxygen machine thing. "With a bunch of records that I don't mind listening to, and I thought that you might like it."

You never really understood how music permeated life until it was _gone_. Especially in my family, where my family had all been primarily musical – Danny with the sax, my dad with the piano, and Leo with the cello and a few other dabblings here and there. When the first swells of something that sounded vaguely Wagner tinnily rang out in the room, I think a few tears rolled out of my eyes.

"Like it?" Joy asked, settling herself into the chair as I hastily wiped my eyes.

"Yes! Thank you so much, Joy. I _love_ it."

"That's good," Joy replied with a happy twinkle in her eyes. She stroked my hair for a while, watching the snow outside the window fall with her feet curled around the seat to be closer to the heater. Her hand stroked my hair though, in vague time with the swells of violin and slightly dramatic harmonies.

"I love you," she told me like it was a heavy admission. Her eyes never left the window. It was the first time she ever said it to me.

"I love you too!" I replied brightly, without knowing if I actually meant it or not. But with the way Joy smiled, it didn't matter either way.

"I've left you a few books, if you want to stay up. Otherwise, keep resting. Okay, Marlon?"

"Okay, Joy. See ya."

Joy closed the door softly behind her, and I was left to myself until Winry finished her lessons.

I liked Resembool, I decided. I really, _really_ like Resembool. Home was where the heart was, and Resembool had lots of heart. Maybe it wasn't my heart, nor Joy's (not quite yet), but the potential was there in Winry, in Ed, in Al, in Pinako and Sarah and Yuriy. Trisha too, who had miraculously grounded Hohenheim. Alain had finally sent a letter that I was going to read tomorrow, and life was _good_.

My thoughts were interrupted when Winry opened the door and skipped over to me.

"Mal, Mal, look at this! I learnt division! And I got EVERYTHING right!"

Outside this idyllic sphere, I knew my mother's spirit was trapped and suffering somewhere. Three wars were raging all at once, and obituaries grew longer by the day in newspapers. The government was seriously fishy, and one of the only people I truly cared about in this world was stuck at the front in danger.

I enthusiastically congratulated Winry on her wonderful mark, even as I idly wondered if it was wrong to be happy, to _revel_ in being protected when I knew there was so much suffering in the world.

Then Winry took my full attention with her stories, and I stopped all my wondering to listen.

* * *

 **So. Busy. Third year is no joke, dear lord. Trying my best to get a writing schedule up. However, more delays means more times to hammer out inconsistencies yay! Thank you for reading this fic, and everyone who reviewed in the last chapter. It really helped me draw up my determination! Please review if you have anything to say! :DDDD**


	5. Departures

[On paper that is slightly crumpled, but of fine make. On the letter in neat cursive are an address and the recipient's name, written in blue ink]

 _Marlon,_

 _How are you? Are you and Joy getting along well? How are Joy's friends? I've heard they had a daughter the same age as you. I hope you have become friends, because thoughts of you being happy are the ones that make me smile. Is your health improving? Resembool is a warm place, not convenient as Central of course, but it's still alright._

 _I am doing alright here. I have made a few friends that are helping me, and we get on through the day. You know I'm boring Marlon, so you also know I don't have much to say about me. But yesterday, one of my soldiers got a package that was tied with blue string. The string reminded me of you, because you always tell me you love blue. The sky here is very blue, every day. It's a desert, which is a place of sand and very little water. So any time I want to think about you, I just look up at the sky._

 _I miss you very much. Tell me about your days? I'm sorry for the short letter. I'm not very good at them. Be assured I'll improve for you._

 _I love you,_

 _Daddy_

* * *

Alchemy exists, starts, like this.

You have an object. This object is solid. It has shape. It has composition. It has an identity that is a result from that shape and composition.

For example, the chair I am sitting on is made of wood. That is its composition. This wood came from a tree. However, it was cut down into logs, given to a carpenter, who then shaped it into something with four legs, a seat, and a backrest. There, assembling these pieces to a certain shape, they become a chair because they arranged it into the shape of what I commonly understand as 'chair'.

That is a basic form of explanation, if I am to give one, of what an object is.

This is how objects are commonly made. You find something harder, like a knife. You make it sharper, so that it can part a softer material. From there, you slowly shape material into the shape of the object you desire, by hammering, or shaving, or whatever artisans do. This takes spatial recognition, some sort of artistic merit, and a steady hand full of practice. Mankind, from the time they started making tools, have slowly refined this craft. But that is not alchemy. That is craft.

I will now go one step further. What is that wood made of? I'll answer scientifically. Wood has a structural tissue, made of cellulose fibres and lignin. My chair is dead, so it doesn't carry fresh water around – it's dried so that it could harden, and as it ages, it'll continue to slowly dry until its brittle. That'll be years and years since.

I won't go into its structural formula – of cell walls, or micro-fibrils. All you have to know is that alchemists look at this and look _further_. What bonds can be broken? What is this wood _exactly_ , made of?

An object has shape, and it has composition. Easier alchemy would just alter shape. In breaking the bonds of, for example, my wooden chair, I don't break the bonds of what makes it _wood_ but instead break bonds where I need to, to change the _shape_ of the wood from a backrest, four legs, and a seat, to something like a wooden doll. My chair is 1.5 kilograms heavy, so my doll will also be 1.5 kilograms heavy. The head will be, in majority, made from two of the legs. The body of the doll will be made from the seat of the chair, and the other parts little bits and pieces of the other two legs and the backrest. So it's just rearranging where the wood cells should be, to build what _I_ want.

Everything else is math. I'll have to write down my specifications of what goes where in alchemic specific symbolic language. I charge the circle with my will, where the will is partially fuelled by 100% explicit knowledge of what you want to do, and the product will appear if I did everything correctly.

An object has shape, and it has composition.

Harder alchemy would alter both shape and composition.

I'll go back to wood, and simplify what it is into simple things: cellulose, water, fibre, in a sense. In water, there's oxygen, hydrogen. In cellulose, there exists carbon.

That'll be it for now – there's enough for me to explain by using these elements.

Okay. My alchemic formulae this time doesn't only shuffle where the wood cells should be, to make a new object. I _split_ it. The bonds that make wood into water or carbon. I identify the parts of wood that are made of carbon, and calculate how to split that from the rest of the molecule. If I want water, I'll make sure to split those molecules from the wood molecules – separate it from the cell walls, or vacuole, or whatever. If I needed oxygen from water, then I'll go and separate that from the hydrogen.

It needs to be exact. How much wood does it take to build a small, fifty gram block of carbon? What types of carbon do I want, anyway? What do I do with the rest of the waste?

If I wanted oxygen, then I have to think about where I put it. How _not_ to mix the product up with the hydrogen later on, because it's practically impossible to split gas from gas. I think about volume, mass, because those measurements decide how much energy is needed for the transmutation.

Equivalent exchange is practical, because if you calculated _too much_ energy into your circle to split your material, then stuff goes wrong. Imagine using a bomb to fry an egg – its heat, yes, and it can theoretically cook the egg, also yes, but it just doesn't work. You've also pulled that energy from nowhere, and that excess energy has to go _somewhere_ , okay. That's when rebound comes in – you pull these mystical energies from the tectonic plates or whatever, and if there's some left, they target the closest related thing to the circle. So… the person that drew the circle, basically.

If there's too little energy, then there's just not going to be a reaction at all. Obvious, but I had to state it anyway.

But I haven't finished yet. After splitting these bonds, you have to reassemble them again. Let's ignore the oxygen thing, and focus on the carbon. I got these floating molecules of carbon, and I want to make it into a block. So I calculate the block's shape and size, specify it, and add it to my transmutation circle too.

Sometimes, complex alchemy has three piles left within the middle after you're done. Waste resources, your previous product, and your final product. For example, any parts I didn't use from my chair would be my 'previous product'. My final product will be my little block of carbon. And my waste resources would be the leftover stuff I pulled my carbon from – little bits and pieces of the molecules I shredded apart that I didn't need.

Simple alchemy has nothing but the final product, since the very act of calculation would forbid wastes from happening.

Simple alchemy is very hard, and also where most alchemists stopped at. Many alchemists are called on to fix things, because that's basically just rearranging shape back to its original state. Most of the time, you didn't _need_ to extract things anyway – you can just find the raw materials somewhere and just incorporate it. If I want carbon, why split it from wood? I can just gather it from a fireplace. Logical, right? So that's why the public conception of alchemy is basically a group of really smart, amazing repair-people.

Famous alchemists continued to study, and did complex alchemy to make simple, new, purer products. As an example, I heard of a small extremely successful alchemy shop in Central that asked for old clothes donations, and made them into brand new high-quality bandages, and other rare cloth products. They're legitimate geniuses – they don't just work with what they're given that's broken – they create something _new_ from the old.

Then there is the next level. The people who dedicated their lives, and became brilliant at some field of alchemy. They'd make fantastical things – drinkable water from nothing, fireworks made of rare compounds. A canon with seven mouths that shot cannonballs made fresh from the ground, or beautiful, elegant twining statues made of impossible purls of fake-diamond. They don't just create new things – on this level, alchemists are the ultimate inventors. At these, people would whisper, _'magic'._

It wasn't far from the truth, really. Magic is what people coined everything miracles that were still not understood, after all.

Now think about this alchemy.

Solids. Composition. Shape.

Now think.

Think about _souls_.

* * *

I found out my birthday was in the week before New Years, when I was still sick. Winry's face, when she realised that I was sick on my birthday, was tragic. Wobbly lip and wide eyes and everything. When I couldn't help but give wheezy laughs when I tried to reply, she slumped her little shoulders and moped around me until it registered I was laughing. Then Winry brightened up too, before declaring 'I can just give you an awesome birthday after your birthday!'

Bless her heart.

I was still waiting for that 'super duper awesome surprise!'. Winry had been bustling around, totally failing in being stealthy at whatever she was trying to prepare. Maybe I was also, kinda, looking forward to it a bit?

"Come on, Marlon!" Winry bounced to me now, a week after the New Year. I was safely ensconced in a comfy chair near the fireplace, with the adults in the kitchen murmuring about things that they probably thought children shouldn't hear. I was kicking my small feet into one of the chair's bare spots, where a little stuffing peeked out of the cushions.

"What is it, Winry?" I said around a large yawn, blinking sleepily at little curls of fire. I scrunched my face to try and clear my vision. New Years was really intense in Winry's household. We were _still_ eating leftovers.

A small hand carefully tugged at mine, and I obligingly stood up. She dragged me up the stairs into our room, leading me to the window. Using a small hand to wipe a spot clear of condensation, she peered through the hole and laughed, hand tightening on mine.

My joints ached. Ugh, I wasn't supposed to feel like an old woman when I was _four_.

"Look, it's _snowing!"_

And so it was. The snow had come late this year, and it wasn't even heavy snow, just little light flakes that covered the ground in a very thin pile.

Winry was peering at me expectantly so I shook myself and grinned too.

"That's so awesome!"

"It's your first time seeing snow, right?" Winry giggled, smooshing her forehead into the glass, before pressing her cheek to it so that she could angle her head to see the snowflakes fall. She stayed like that for a while, still in childish curiosity. I just stood next to her with my hand still loosely in hers, and looked up the hill to the few pinpricks of light.

No, it wasn't my first time seeing snow. I'd lived in a country with lots of snow in winter, I think.

In my memories, I remember being happier than I was. I remember laughing a lot, between suspiciously fuzzy gaps. My friends would always laugh at my jokes, and I'd play them with a large smile and awkward shoulder wiggles as we walked down streets window shopping. Every day I'd go home to Leo and Danny, and Leo would give me a big hug even while Danny would give me a half-welcoming shrug and continue doing what he was doing.

But I did remember how I was a crazy little kid around snow, and just smiled fondly at Winry instead.

At least she wasn't like me when I was young, when mini me in the past always liked bursting outside and try eating the snow. Winry was so much smarter as a three year old than me, huh.

She tightened her grip on my hand and dragged me to my bed. Then she promptly sat us both down with a hard tug, and I folded like a pile of cards. Just like usual.

Man. I was even more pathetic than _Al_ resisting Ed when Winry wanted something.

"Winry, what are you doing?" I asked with a smile on my lips. Winry giggled, because that's what she did, what she _always_ did when she was with me. She put little sunshine bursts of sound in my room.

"Shhh!" She shushed me louder than my own murmur, her little feet bouncing as she burrowed underneath my blankets, crawling so that she was wedged between me and the wall. Then she pulled the blankets over her head. I didn't bother telling her that her hair was still sticking out. "I saw daddy saying he'd try to find me to make me do our lessons. Turn the music on louder, Marlon! I'll hide here!"

I indulged her like I always did, reaching my arm out to turn the volume knob to a louder setting playing my favourite piece. Winry wiggled a bit, before falling silent and still, and I settled down to let the music soak over me.

I'd found my favourite record out of the stack that Joy had given me. On the cover was a drawn, strangely in a pencil sketch type of style. A beautiful lady in white over a black cover, drawn with an elegant sweep to her gown. She's playing the violin, her bow ever perpetually raised two inches from the strings. The piece weren't in the style of the first vaguely-Wagner pieces I'd heard with Joy. Instead, it was an older, more crackly record. In it was only one track – a requiem for a queen that had died a few years ago in Drachma.

It's called ' _memento mei'_. From fuzzy latin classes, its worded like a command.

Remember me.

The piece itself is demanding. It starts of slow, before sweeping up into a dramatic, almost frantic climax, where the first movement ends right there, at the top of its climax, ending with a desperate screech of a violin.

Then after a pause, the second movement starts off tragic, keeping itself low in pitch as it moved through the same four harmonic phrases with little notes of a bassoon chiming in here and there. It's not the same as most orchestral pieces I listened to back home, but maybe because it's a different world. It wasn't a stylistic choice I was used to. Anyway, the second movement only really begins halfway through, when an acoustic guitar just… pops in. Its line is beautiful and lyrical, strangely peaceful after the low drone of the last few minutes. The guitar keeps its lyrical tone, even as the rest of the orchestra starts swelling, building, still on that grieving, melancholic four harmonic phrase sequence that becomes more and more discordant as it goes on. It grows until the guitar line is only one line in a cacophony of loud, harsh music and then a pause, a single cascade of the guitar line—

It stops again. The third movement starts, but with a woman singing mysterious Drachman in a clear operatic tone. The voice goes with two violins, the guitar, and a double bass, with the orchestra joining in the background. The third movement never builds into a climax – it wanders, it dips into sadness before warbling back to happiness before meandering in between moods. It feels lost, even as it champions the woman's voice all the way through. It ends with a sense of finality on an unexpected note, poised to dive into the last, and final movement.

But it never does, because the record's scratched, right there, right after the first chord of the fourth movement. A rich major blast of strings and _scrrtch_ —silence.

The first time I heard it, I found it poetic, especially because it was unfinished. I felt, the first time I sat and _listened_ to the woman's voice halfway between grief and joy, that I probably would have liked it less if the record had an ending.

I dunno. Sometimes, music just speaks to you. That end spoke to me.

Joy gave me weird looks when I just kept replaying it over and over for a week. Winry definitely gave me a few rare stink-eyes.

Music helped a lot though. Winry did too. Joy, Sarah and Yuriy tried their best but they were so often absent.

Winry gave a yawn then, because she always fell sleepy after getting warm. After a few more strokes to the head, she fell asleep right after the third movement started, her mind already forgotten about the snow I was still watching.

I continued to stroke her hair, and wondered. Hohenheim had started to become more withdrawn lately, even though he had visited me a few times. The New Year had come, and every day, Sarah and Yuriy read the newspapers and whispered of what duty they should be loyal to – Winry? Or to all the lives they knew they could save?

We heard a town, Minden, seven stations down the train tracks getting bombed from a small Ishvallan guerrilla attack. Minden had supplied the military with wool and provisions too. Some farmers had talked about setting up night watches.

The old postman, who insisted me on calling him 'Grandpa', lost his grandson a few days back. No-one blamed him when he asked for leave. Now it's a young guy, nineteen, who was kind of a jerk but always stared at the recruitment propaganda a little too long when he passed them out, considering the Fuhrer's face in them with a kind of burning ambition.

Downstairs, Sarah laughed loudly as a patient told her a joke on her routine check up and Winry startled awake. She immediately twisted around, flailing as she gave me large wounded eyes.

"Marlon, did I nap?" She asked, panicking.

I peered down at her curiously. "Why? Weren't you hiding from Uncle Yuriy?"

Winry gave me a _look_. "Just because I'm hiding doesn't mean we can't play, Marlon! _Remember?_ I told you that when you're not sick we have to make up for _lost time!_ " She whined the last part, hilariously enough. I just looked down at her face with bemusement.

"Well, you didn't tell me that you wanted to do something fun now, did you?" I asked teasingly, as Winry's face grew thundercloudy. "Aww, Winry, don't be mad! You're too cute to be mad!"

When Winry tried to sit up, I flumped on top of her with all my stacks of blankets and squashed on top of her.

"Marlon, stop!" Winry said, an arm jabbing me in the ribcage. Ineffective! The blankets are more than enough protection!

"Make me!" I said into the lump of blankets under me, and Winry tried to wriggle free. One of her feet stuck out and nudged at my knee, and I just slumped forward even more with a wide grin on my face.

"Noooo!"

"Girls, what are you doing? Its time for your lessons~" Yuriy poked his head into our room, and his eyes sparkled when he saw me sprawled over the lump of blankets. Yuriy had such a troll-face. "Hmmm, I thought I heard Winry in here too? I wonder where she is?"

Underneath me, Winry stuck her hand out and flailed it in the direction of the door. "Daddy, help me! Marlon's trying to squish me!"

"I am squishing you," I corrected as primly as I could. "And you'll never escape!"

Winry finally freed her head with a pop, and gave her dad puppy eyes. Yuriy tapped his chin, before grinning. "Well, how can I resist saving my dearest daughter? Come now!" And then he swooped in and made a big deal of tugging Winry out by her armpits, before swinging her in the air. "Wheeeee!" Winry laughed, holding her arms out and Yuriy chuckled too, before slinging Winry into one arm and holding a hand out to me. "Come on, Marlon," he said, "it's time for your lessons."

I switched off the music, before taking his hand. Winry had started pointing out the snow to Yuriy when she got reminded of its existence again, and Yuriy was oohing and aahing as appropriate.

When we got downstairs, Joy swept inside with a slightly annoyed look on her face as she brushed snow off her coat.

"Ingredients for dinner," she explained as she hefted the bags up and headed to the kitchen. "We're eating beans again tonight!"

Winry groaned. "Beans?" She gave a plaintive whine. "We ate lots of beans last week already!"

Of course, my mind said. Rations. Ishval had hit a major storehouse two months before. Beans were plentiful, easy to grow, and easy to preserve. My tastebuds however, complained.

Oh well.

"Well, I like beans remember?" Lies. Super duper lies. "Let's have baked beans today!" I gave a pleading look to Joy as she headed to the kitchen and made sure at least half my face was visible to Winry so you know, they'd both get the hint.

"Maybe!" Joy sang back, setting her bags onto the counter. Still pretty heavy, she gave an _ooph_ as she tried not to let the cans clank on the kitchen top.

Winry grumbled a little into Yuriy's sweater as we three went to the living room where Yuriy had already spread out our lessons. "If _Marlon_ says so…" She said mulishly, as she gave the stink-eye at the kitchen (and presumably, the evil beans inside).

I pretended not to notice Yuriy's fond smile as he let down Winry, patted my head, and sat down to start out lesson. It was mix and match today, to promote general knowledge. We'd moved on from animals – now we had a map on the table.

Interesting. Very interesting.

"Match city names to the map!" Yuriy said with a warm smile, as the kitchen started wafting the smell of warm milk. Probably for afternoon tea, which is usually after our lesson.

Winry was glaring at the right side of the map, staring at the splotch between Ishval and Central.

It lasted for a few more seconds before her mouth became a mulish pout.

"Where's Resembool?" She demanded, pointing her chubby finger a little right to East City and completely ignoring the little list of cities Yuriy wanted us to match. I reached around Winry to slide the list towards me - pretty simple actually. North, South, East, West City and Central. They must've wanted us to learn about directions _and_ geography and hit two birds with one stone. Smart.

Winry, on the other hand, had continued to puff her cheeks. She had the habit of pushing them out and pursing her lips the longer she thought about something, which was… kinda hilarious actually.

"Resembool isn't a city, darling," Yuriy said with wide smile, watching her daughter's face gradually, gradually, _gradually_ contort. Then he snickered.

"You're making fun of me!" Winry accused immediately, when she looked up to see her dad grinning down at her.

"No I'm not," he immediately denied.

"You _are!_ " Winry said, pout back in full force, and she'd tugged herself until she was commandeering his head, hugging it tight around his forehead. Why, I have no clue. While that was going on, I ripped the _North City_ tag from the list and placed it on North City. The map had railway lines too, so it was even easier to just identify which one _was_ the city.

"Winry, Marlon is going to win if you don't start matching!"

"Win what?" Winry asked, still in the process of kidnapping Yuriy's head.

"More cookies with milk!" Yuriy assured us as he tried to retain his chuckles when he saw my eyes light up. Ooh, cookies. I quickly ripped off the South City tag and placed it on South City and reached for the West City tag.

Winry scrambled over just as I was placing down West City, diving at me so that she successfully glomped me to the floor. Thankfully, I landed on my back so I didn't breathe in the carpet.

"It doesn't count! It doesn't! Marlon, start again, _pleeeasseeee?"_

Puppy eyes. Ugh. Must. Resist. Remember the cookies, Marlon!

"Oh, alright," I heaved a sigh even while a voice in my head raised an eyebrow and snarked ' _Pathetic, Crawford.'_. I told that voice to shut up.

Yuriy laughed. I may or may not have sent a glare his way, because hey, he wasn't any _less_ whipped now, was he?

Lessons proceeded this way, until the end of the hour and we were released into the wild, since the snow had stopped falling. We met Ed and Al sitting underneath the tree on the hill again, reading a book, and Winry insisted on being read aloud to. Me, well, I was struggling up the hill underneath a ridiculous amount of jackets. Ed noticed and trotted down the hill to give me a hand, grumbling while he helped of course. I gave Ed my biggest grin when I settled in the space between Winry and Al, while Ed closed the circle on the other side.

"Thanks Ed. Such a gentleman," I cooed.

Ed's ears turned pink, and muttered, "I only did it because _Mum_ said to always take care of friends!" before he flipped the page. Winry leaned into Ed, and I peered over Al's shoulder. This lasted for about ten minutes or so before all of us threw away our books and cloud-watched.

That night, Joy tried to hide a demonic smirk (she knew I hated beans) while I scarfed down my beans like I totally _loved_ them for Winry, who was picking at her food. Then I teased a spoonful of beans into her, and she mashed some back into my face in revenge, but I caught her spoon in my mouth and pretended to love the… mashed, mushy beans.

I kinda had to convulsively swallow so the beans would stay down because _man_ were these beans stale.

But Winry ate her beans, as predicted. Phew.

Being a role-model was hard work.

* * *

Time passed like it did – I slowly started to try jogging again, Winry was bouncing against the walls being cooped up for too long, and Yuriy and Sarah were parently saints that helped Joy unstiffen up. We became family, in a weird, small way, where there was an extra daughter, a close auntie, and Pinako, who suddenly evolved from ' _Winry's grandma'_ to ' _Granny'_ with a shy smile to ' _Granny'_ with a devious poke to the ribs. Ed and Al were over a lot, but they were still friends, with the distance that word offered.

One day, Winry was eyeing Ed and Al again. " _Alllll_ ," Ed was whining, "you promised not to tell Mum!"

"Brother," Al just said primly back, swinging his legs and maybe accidentally knocking his feet on Ed's shoulder now and again, "I also promised to never lie to mother."

Ed wrinkled his nose, out-logicked, and decided that this wasn't good enough, leapt up and tackled Al. Al was three and a half, and had decidedly grown, and just rolled off the chair and gave his smuggest grin. Ed growled and launched himself at him. Al laughed. And Winry rolled her eyes, and snuggled next to my blanket.

"I'm so glad you're not a boy, Marlon!"

"Me too, Winry," I answered placidly, flipping another page. A picture book, this time, though it was still about weird philosopher history and whatnot. "Imagine if I was like Ed."

Winry's eyes rounded in horror.

"Noooooooo, I'm happy you're not Ed!"

I looked at Ed, who was magically being beaten by his toddler, one year younger than himself brother, and nodded.

"Yeah, me too."

Then we grinned and laughed together, and Ed (who actually didn't miss much, despite being such a kid) narrowed his eyes at us.

"What are you two laughing at," he voice suspicious. "By the tingling on my nose, you were laughing at me, weren't you!"

"Um, no?" Winry tried. I nodded, flipping to the next page.

"Yeah, we were laughing at you," I said. Ooh, this page was more colourful. Nice.

"Oh, okay," Ed was going to back down, before Al's giggling face made him rewind the conversation and glare at me. "Wait, you _were_ laughing at me!" This started a whole lot more of Ed's shenanigans, which may or may not have included him puppy eyeing Winry and goading her into a match of bastardised Pictionary. Al took over Winry's spot when she took the challenge. He read the book with me in the relative quiet, a soft squishy spot of cute adorableness mumbling words into my shoulder.

And okay, basically, all our interactions were this stupid and it was _nice_ okay?

* * *

Late winter, when it was warming up and the snow had melted and everyone was preparing for Spring and planting crops, Winry and I found ourselves being babysat by Hohenheim. Hohenheim rarely left the house these days, but as usual, Trisha worked her magic (the man was whipped) and persuaded him to go out while she did some spring cleaning.

Since Yuriy and Sarah had gone out to different villages to treat somebody or another, and Joy had her hands full running the clinic they left behind, Winry and I had been preparing to go to Pinako's. Only for someone to book an urgent automail appointment. Ed and Al were helping out Trisha, and thus, Hohenheim had come to help Pinako babysit us. Truly a marriage of circumstance.

At Pinako's, the granny gave us a grin, a "Hey, squirts!", before giving Hohenheim a welcoming slug to his stomach (he didn't even flinch, _damn man_ ), and let us into the living room while she did her automail stuff.

Winry and I passed the time playing make believe while, on the side, Hohenheim struggled to exist without his alchemy notes.

That man was such a wreck.

A few hour later though, Winry and I were bored.

"What else is there to do?" I wondered out loud, leaning my back against the couch as I stretched my legs out over a rug. Pinako had a few rugs here and there, but her best rug was definitely the one in the living room in front of the fireplace.

"Hey, let's tell stories!" Winry suddenly said, waving her arms around animatedly, having sat cross-legged on the couch.

"Good idea, Winry!" I cheered, before glancing slyly at Hohenheim. "Uncle Elric should join too!"

"Oh yes," Winry clapped, and her smile was beamed at Hohenheim, who looked slightly overwhelmed at suddenly being addressed. "Join the game, Uncle Elric?"

"Yes, please?" I joined, putting as much childish inflection in my voice as possible. Hohenheim gave me the blankest, most passive, understated glare I've seen in man. It was truly impressive. But he held on a few seconds, until I added, "If you join, I won't tell Auntie Trisha about the hidden alchemy notes you have in your jacket!"

He gave in of course. Fufu.

"Oooh, I'll start first!" And then Winry, without aplomb of any kind, launched into her story. It was filled, of course, with her favourite things. A yellow clad (she was in a yellow phase) knight who was secretly a woman going to slay the dragon and meeting true love on the way. Of course, she had five cute animal sidekicks, and they all kicked major butt, and for some reason all her characters had automail.

I applauded at the end. "Awesome, Winry!"

That comment wasn't a lie. Sometimes I really wondered what Winry had in her brain. Pot smoking bunnies?

"Your turn, Uncle Elric!" Winry said, going around clockwise. So Hohenheim gave a solemn nod, and started with 'Once upon a time,' made a story about a man journeying to become the ultimate alchemist, got betrayed, and… the end.

"That story sucked!" Winry said emphatically. "Where was his princess? Why did his friend betray him? I don't like it!"

Hohenheim blinked before becoming slightly flustered, and coughed. "Well, its Marlon's turn now, isn't it?"

Winry turned her eyes on me, and I caved to her expectations.

"Okay. Hmmm, I'll tell a story about a creature, the man who made him, and his friends. No princesses, sorry Winry."

Winry paused, thought a little, before nodding at me to continue. "You apologised, so it's okay," she assured me.

Pffft. Okay.

"So on a dark, stormy night, an alchemist called Victor Frankenstein wanted to create _life_ …"

And with that beginning, I knew Hohenheim was hooked as I started Shelley's cautionary tale.

Frankenstein, see, was the name of a scientist who created a living being, a Creature, because he wanted to play God. However, although the Creature was stronger, faster, smarter, and easily superior to human beings, he was extremely grotesque. Abandoned because Frankenstein couldn't deal with ugliness (the weeb), the Creature wandered until he found a family. He helped them anonymously, and hoped to become friends with them. But when they saw his ugliness, they violently drove him away. Then he wandered, and despaired. Stuff happened, and he asked Frankenstein, his creator, to make him a companion. Frankenstein agreed, but became scared halfway through – what if they _reproduced_? Thus, Frankenstein betrayed the Creature, the Creature went on a murder rampage, and Frankenstein chases the Creature to the end of the world because he'd lost everything that he'd ever cherished in his life. The Creature had destroyed everything he'd ever cared for as an act of revenge.

There's a dramatic stand off at the end, of course. But the Creature doesn't kill him in the end. He lets Frankenstein go free.

Winry interjected in bits of course.

When I got to the bit where the Creature looked into a river and saw how ugly he was, "Why can't you make Creature _beautiful_ Marlon?"

When the Creature was trying to reach out to the family and was driven away, "That's so mean! Creature didn't do anything wrong!"

Then Winry gave me a glare when I got to the bit where the Creature killed the woman Frankenstein loved, "Why did Creature suddenly kill everyone? I don't like your story, Marlon!"

Right when I finished up, when Frankenstein met the Creature in the snowy wastelands and the Creature let Frankenstein free so that he could live and suffer, Pinako interrupted us with a "Squirts! Girls! I just finished with the patient! Who wants some raisin bread?"

Winry was nearly crying when the Creature ran away into the icy cold by himself, betrayed by his creator, alone forever, having been abandoned by the world and became the monster everyone saw him as, and she ran to Pinako's voice with a dramatic wail of ' _Grannyyyyyyyy_!'

After the patter of Winry's feet launching herself into Pinako's arms, Hohenheim looked at me. Since Winry was out of the room, I finally dropped my smile and grimaced at a headache building up in my temples. Hohenheim understood.

"What's the moral of this story then, Marlon?" He asked me, his voice low. "Don't mess with life? Monsters are made, not born? God's domain shouldn't be defiled?"

I hummed, glancing at Hohenheim's piercing eyes for a few seconds before glancing away to the fireplace. Cold right now, because firewood was getting a little scarce. "All of those, but I like another interpretation better."

In the other room, Pinako was humouring a tearful Winry as the kid was tearfully trying to recount my story to her. Pinako was huffing a few laughs, and I smiled hearing it.

Turning back to Hohenheim, I turned that smile on him. "I like to think that the story is also about how no-one can stand loneliness."

Hohenheim gave a slow blink at that, before sighing.

"That is very true," his agreed, voice reminiscent. "I wouldn't have called the life before meeting Trisha living at all. I've only just understood what living means, because she taught me just like she promised at our wedding day. Life is to look at every new day and look forward to the new possibilities within it, with the people you love," Hohenheim said, all morose and sappy.

He paused, and I tugged a blanket from the couch over me, snuggling into it as I watched Hohenheim go all over again. He literally couldn't stand one conversation without mentioning Trisha. It was sweet, but… still, you know?

Hohenheim continued. "What is five years, compared to nearly four hundred? Yet, the last five has brought me so much happiness, made me realise so many things, makes me want to remember every single moment. Makes me fear going to sleep, because every breath asleep is another breath not smiling with Trisha, not seeing my two boys, fearing all of this was a dream. It makes me fear death, because all things will die, and I will have to watch again. And I love Trisha too much to let her die alone."

He seemed to be expecting some sort of reply there, so I pulled one out of my ass. What would be appropriate here?

"With you, Trisha must never be lonely," I said back, when the pause had _nearly_ stretched too long.

Hohenheim's face went still, the wrinkles in his face suddenly deep-set instead of animated. After a short pause, he looked at me, his eyes grim and mourning. For what though, I had no idea.

"Yes," he replied then, hands trembling.

And because something was freaking him out, and from his story of wandering a few centuries I figured he probably had some type of trauma with loneliness and abandonment issues, I changed to topic.

"Hohenheim, I'm glad I met you."

He looked positively surprised, and I grinned at him. "I don't know if fate exists or not, but meeting you when I've only came into this world for a few years makes me feel I actually can save my mother."

Hohenheim's eyes softened in understanding.

"If all goes well," he said softly, transitioning halfway through his sentence to not so much talking to _me_ as some vague space of concept (probably had Trisha in it, to be honest), "you won't need to save your mother at all."

"What do you mean?" I asked, straightening up.

"I…" he trailed off, before he focused back on me. "Nothing. I just found some out some things a few days ago."

Probably his investigations into his blonde Homonculus twin then. But if he wasn't sharing it, the info must still be unconfirmed. Better not push.

"Alchemy related?" I teased instead, and he was all serious and poised when he answered.

"Yes, alchemy of a sort…"

Sometimes, talking to Hohenheim was like talking to a one-tone track. Apparently he was pretty lively and interesting before (from Pinako's accounts) and in front of Trisha he totally lit up, but sometimes… I huffed and shuffled out of my blankets and into the main room to be with Pinako and Winry, leaving Hohenheim in the dark room to think by himself.

The next day, Hohenheim asked for a written copy of my story. I've never thought myself a writer, but I told Hohenheim that when I mastered writing neatly, I'll try my best.

* * *

Late spring, Yuriy and Sarah pulled the whole group together.

"Winry, Marlon," Sarah said with a smile on her face. I was instantly on my guard, because that wasn't her normal smile – this was an _adult_ smile.

Winry, who was already kind of on edge (she was so, _so_ smart, she knew why Yuriy and Sarah had offered their house to me and Joy in the first place, and she'd told me before that she loved that I was here but she was so scared of her parents leaving her behind) reached out and gripped my hand. I clenched back, and Winry took one glance at me before looking down at her knees and asked, "You're leaving, aren't you?"

With Sarah's nod, Winry's face crumpled, and she hopped off her chair and slammed her way out the door. Through the kitchen window, I realised she was running towards the Elric's house.

"I'll get her," I immediately volunteered, heart hurting for Winry.

"Wait, we've spoken to Winry before, but this is something we should tell you too Marlon," Sarah tried to stop me, even as she looked out the window and tracked Winry's small shadow on the Elric's porch. The door opened, and Winry disappeared inside.

"The Ishval war, right?" I replied easily, staring straight back at her. Sarah and Yuriy looked back at me in surprise, but a soft snort from the side distracted them.

"I told you they already knew," Joy just said shortly at their questioning looks, putting the kettle onto the boil.

"They've been calling for relief for a long time," I nodded to the stacks of old newspapers that we kept for kindling. "We're not deaf. Ishval is getting worse, right?"

"I'm so sorry," Sarah apologised, instead of any sort of proper reply.

I didn't ask for what she was apologising for, and I knew she wasn't exactly apologising to me, but I shrugged and accepted it anyway. "Auntie, Uncle, you need to talk to Winry, right? I'll get her for you," I repeated now. Without waiting for a reply though, I turned around and went out the door.

When I knocked on the door to the Elric's house, I wasn't surprised to see Ed and Al. They, too, wasn't surprised to see me as they tore open the door.

"Winry's _crying_ ," Ed whispered to me, all panicked. "I didn't even punch her or anything or this time, she just came up and started crying!"

"What should we do, Marlon?" Al whispered too, all but tugging me inside the house and closing the door behind them. "You've got to make it better!" They ushered me past the closed door of Hohenheim's study and into the living room.

There, Trisha looked up and smiled up at me. Winry was in her lap, her face in her shoulder.

"Marlon," she said, all warm and stuff, and I smiled awkwardly. Ed and Al pushed me into the room, and I nearly stumbled over a rug. Shooting them a dirty look, I coughed.

"Auntie Trisha," I replied back politely, eyes on Winry. Winry had never been that quiet of a cryer. Winry didn't look up at my voice, so I accepted my role. Winry wanted someone adult, probably, but I didn't need to actively comfort her to help. So I sat next to her on the sofa and leaned into Trisha's side. Winry knew I was here.

I beckoned Ed and Al over, who were all confused and stuff, but they piled onto the sofa on Trisha's other side and started tripping over themselves to talk to Winry. With one smiling look from Trisha though, they quieted into twitchy messes, even as Winry tried to stop hiccupping into Trisha's shoulder.

It took far too long for Winry to stop crying, and then a while after that for her to look up. Her face was all splotchy, and there was definitely a patch of snot on Trisha's shirt now. When she saw all of us were there, her face crumbled a little more before she started rubbing her face with her arms, smearing snot all over them. Her blue eyes were red.

"Hey," I said softly. "Let's go back."

"No," she replied.

"Uncle and Auntie will be worried."

A pause. Then Winry's chin tilted mulishly.

"Good."

I looked at her, before looking up at Trisha, and nodded. She didn't need me right now. Getting off the sofa, I tugged the two boys with me too, who were still confused.

"I'll be waiting outside then," I just said to Winry before leaving.

On the seat outside, Ed finally burst. I'm surprised he even lasted that long.

"What's happening? Tell us now, Marlon." He crossed his arms.

"Uncle Yuriy and Auntie Sarah have finally decided to leave for Ishval," I said simply. Al's face dropped open with a small 'oh' of understanding. Ed frowned, before turning that frown on our house just down the hill. The curtains were still open, and I saw the three adults still inside the kitchen.

"Why aren't they staying? They have Winry!" Ed protested, crossing his arms. "Parents aren't supposed to leave their children!"

"It doesn't seem like them," Al agreed, nodding. "I thought they loved Winry?"

"They do," I said simply.

"They have a funny way of showing it," Ed muttered.

"They'll come back after the war," I replied.

"War is where people die though," Al pointed out.

There was a tiny silence after that, before I found the words. "Sometimes, even if you love something, there are other things that are more important."

"What do you mean, Marlon?" Al asked, eyes furrowed even as Ed continued frowning moodily at our house.

"But if you love someone, you want to spend all your time by their side, right? They're supposed to be the most important thing. It's true. _Mum_ said so," Ed said, turning to me, daring me to object.

"Right," Al nodded. "Like Mum and Dad, right?" Ed hmphed an agreement (because they knew best how sappy Hohenheim and Trisha were for each other), but I ignored that and tried to approach the topic in a different way.

"Well, let's look at Joel," I tried.

Al took a few seconds to get it. "Ah, the baker's son?"

"Yup. Anyway, Joel went to East City to find a job, right? Why? He got his ma, da, his sister, and his girlfriend in Resembool and he loves them. So why does he leave?"

"He gotta make money," Ed said bluntly. "Money is important."

"Exactly," I nodded. "Sometimes what is most important aren't your _feelings_. Auntie Sarah and Uncle Yuriy feel like saving people's lives is really important."

Another pause as the kids tried to grasp this concept.

"That's not _fair_ though," Ed said, all scowl still. He was the type to keep grudges, unlike Al and myself. Winry was the same way though. "They could stay here and save lives _too_."

"But not as many," I pointed out. "Don't you think saving people is a really important job too? They're doctors."

Ed glared at me. "Whose side are you _on,_ Marlon? Winry is crying and you're defending them!"

I shrugged in reply, because this was less about _sides_ to me and more about just accepting that sometimes, you just can't control the people in your life. If they chose their duty over Winry, it was their choice, and their choice only (as much as I may have disagreed).

The door creaked open then, and a bleary-eyed Winry stepped out with Trisha, who was still rubbing Winry's shoulders in a calming way. I stopped Ed and Al from saying anything by hopping in front of her first. Then I took Winry's hand.

"Ready?" I asked. Winry nodded, and we stepped down the hill together.

That night, Winry slept in Yuriy and Sarah's room. I was alone.

I switched on my music and fell asleep to the swells of a woman singing to the dead.

* * *

The next morning, on my suggestion, we dug out Pinako's camera and took a group photo in front of Sarah and Yuriy's clinic. It'll become Joy's soon. Hohenheim took the picture, while everyone else was in it – Trisha, Ed and Al, me and Winry, Sarah, Joy and Yuriy. Pinako stood with us kids because she was such a midget.

Winry didn't have a lot of stuff, and she already had a set of things at Pinako's anyway. All three of us kids helped Winry move her stuff out from our room to her new room at Pinako's. Ed was prone to moaning about how bothersome all of it was though, I was struggling with lifting anything heavy for more than a few seconds and Al hated the heat, but we all did it.

Two weeks later, Sarah and Yuriy gave Winry a kiss, took their briefcases and waved goodbye to us. Pinako promptly decided to distract Winry with some ice-cream. It worked.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Winry said one day. "I forgot to give you your birthday surprise." Winry had turned four, birthday in Spring. Ed was only a month later.

"It's cool," I assured, taking the gift with a grin. "What's in it?"

Winry huffed, before hooking our arms and marching down the road. We were walking from Pinako's back to my house.

"Records!" She said. "Now you have more music!"

When I opened the package back in my room, there were three records there. One was a piano concerto that looked pretty promising. The second was based on one of the famous composers of the day, with ten tracks of his newest compositions. The third was an unscratched, vintage version of my favourite Drachman requiem _'memento mei'._

I looked contemplatively at it, before sliding the last record onto my shelf, putting the other two on my record player for easy access.

Then I ran downstairs to give Winry a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Ed groaned and called it gross, so of course I had to give him a kiss on the cheek too.

Trolling kids was fun.

* * *

Spring came, it went. Summer came, and crops ripened, and the normal summer colds came and went. Joy was kept busy, and Winry struggled with being a whole street away from her three best friends. But she also started to learn about automail from Pinako and… woah girl.

(basically, Yuriy was an automail fanatic, and Pinako was too, and maybe it's genetic because Winry sometimes had an unholy light in her eyes when she watched Pinako work and it kind of creeps me out sometimes).

What other things happened? Well, Ed and Al got into tonnes of arguments, Winry started babbling excitedly about school (everyone started school when they turned five, which was _next year!)_ and Joy started getting into the role of running the clinic by herself. I only got sick once when summer started, which was a huge plus too.

Hohenheim started to lock himself in his room more and more. Trisha looked more and more worried as time passed, but when I came over and he was inexplicably outside, he would stare at me.

"Marlon," he asked one day. "Memories are important, aren't they?"

I gave him a funny, questioning smile, and said "Duh."

He nodded.

"I thought so."

Hohenheim nodded at Ed and Al, returned to his study and shut the door. I tried not to resent him that much when hurt flashed in their faces.

* * *

"Dear Winry," I read the letter aloud, "we've currently reached the outpost that we're supposed to join. It's really hot here, and your mother is sweating buckets. We have to keep to short letters for now, but we'll be able to send better, longer letters soon! We love you very much, and miss you.

 _Winry, love you lots! Your father hogged most of the paper. Well, next time, I'll be writing first, so look forward to that! We've written the address we're going to next on the paper, so make sure to send your reply there, okay? Love you lots!_

 _Mama_ and Papa."

Winry bounced as she took back the letter and then shoved the next one at me. A bunch of letters had arrived all at once because of backlog, and Winry was ecstatic over it. Ed and Al hadn't come out today, wanting to help out Trisha and their farm. Since Winry and I didn't have those responsibilities (as our guardians didn't deal with farms as their profession), we were just chilling in my room.

"The next one! Pleeeeaseee?"

I huffed even as I carefully opened the seal and took out the letter cramped inside the small envelope, this one much thicker than the previous one.

"Why don't you read it yourself?"

"It's _hard_ ," Winry whined. "And I like listening! I love listening!"

I gave her an amused smile, even as I started reading.

"Okay, here goes. _Winry, today I saw the cutest puppy! Didn't you say before you wished Den had puppies? Well…"_

* * *

In mid summer, right in a swell of a heat-wave, Hohenheim came over to my house without warning in the early morning. I let him in, surprised. I hadn't been sleeping well in the heat – sitting up while sleeping was a hard job, okay?

"What's up, Hohenheim?" I asked, wondering if he had more information on his evil homunculus twin that he wanted to tell me. He looked grimly at me.

"If you have any questions, look underneath the cushion of the seat next to the suit of armour in the basement," he said back.

He didn't even step into the house. Hovering in the threshold, I just watched on curiously as he reached out a hand to my forehead. A flash of light and the telltale crackle of alchemy, and I fainted with the image of Hohenheim's face, unchanged as I collapsed onto his arm.

When I woke up three days later, it was to a tearful, confused Winry, and a worried Joy.

I stared blankly at them.

Later, I found out that Hohenheim had left after visiting me, a two minute thing that no-one knew even happened. I found out that Trisha had become the main topic of local gossip as the poor woman her husband left behind. Winry whispered to me the other, important things – that Al and Ed lurked around the train station for the last few days staring at incoming trains until the hurt look on Trisha's face stopped them. That Trisha had stopped smiling.

But now, I stared at Winry, and all I could see was a flat smile, laughing cartoonishly. Winry smacking around screwdrivers, Winry the orphan automail mechanic, Winry alone as she stood underneath the ( _our_ ) tree on the hill, Winry as she baked pie, Winry as she went to North, went Central, went anywhere she was needed by Ed and Al because…

"Marlon, Marlon, what's wrong, AUNTIE, MARLON IS UP BUT SOMETHING'S WRONG—"

Joy thundered up the stairs, and took one look at me before stiffening up. As the one who always saw through my lies and being such a legit force of nature, she drew herself up sharply and waved Winry out of the room. Winry went, not without a lot of hesitation though.

"What is wrong," she asked, direct and forthright. She held my shoulders and counted. "Breathe with my counts, Marlon. Now. One, two, three…"

When I was calm and tired, I just said, "This is wrong." _I took a baby's body, Joy._ "The world is wrong." _My mother is trapped because of man's hubris, Joy._ "But what is wrong?"

 _Truth isn't an immutable concept. Truth changes, and this is truth now. Truths are created in the present, aren't they?_

What is there to do, but to go forward?

"Marlon, speak to me," Joy said, voice hard in her effort to keep calm. "What are you saying?"

Forward.

So I slapped myself mentally, and shored my memories up for later to process. Now, I knew I'd acted out of character enough that a smile and a laugh wouldn't cut it.

"Joy, I love you," I said, and willed myself to believe it. "I need to plan now. Can you leave me for a bit?"

Joy, and I did love her then a little then, because she held my gaze and closed her eyes. Breathed out, slowly, before unclenching her hands from my shoulders.

"I understand," _and she did, I marvelled_. "Call me when you're done. Dinner in two hours."

"I'm sorry," I called out to her back when she was nearly out the door.

She paused.

"No, you're not," she replied calmly. "But I love you all the same."

Then she closed the door.

* * *

"Are you going to leave?" Winry asked in the hallway. She hadn't had the concept of an inside voice yet. "Please don't leave."

Joy, who did have an inside voice, replied softly, so I couldn't really hear her from beyond the closed door.

"Everyone's leaving," Winry's shaky voice replied. "I know Marlon came here because you knew mama, but she fainted, and that means she's sick again, so you might move again? I don't want you to leave."

A mumble, and a murmur as Joy replied. They were going down the stairs now.

"You'll really make pie?"

" _Yes,"_ Joy presumably said.

"You really won't leave?"

No, we won't leave.

I still didn't have my memories of my first mother back, but many of the blank spaces had been filled. What did Hohenheim do? No, I knew what he did. Hohenheim could… fix things, by making Truth's carelessness a little better (like what he did with Izumi, black hair, fierce eyes, literally stronger than a bear) and now I wondered again, about fate. Did Truth send me into Marlon Crawford's body for more than how much we matched? He mentioned something about compatibility. The body that would most serve his purpose.

Did Alain and Joy factor into Truth's 'purpose'? I looked at the letters Alain had sent, and thought of Joy and how _good_ these two people were. How convenient that one was high up in the military, and another knew Sarah from medical school.

How _utterly_ convenient, I thought with slight disgust at them being used this way.

Then I thought of Winry, and paled when I remembered Sarah and Yuriy's fate.

Scar. Mustang. Ling, _Father_. Hohenheim's quest.

Trisha. Auntie Trisha, infinitely patient, goddess in a woman's armour, beloved of Hohenheim and recently abandoned. Made the meanest batch of cookies in the world, had a laugh that had a bit of a snort in it when she forgot to control herself, and liked telling funny stories when we slept over at Ed and Al's house.

Trisha, convenient lynch pin of fate.

I switched on my record player, and turned it loud.

 _Damn it._

I glared.

 _Damn it, damn it, damn it._

* * *

 **Yay for existential crisis! Writing has been hard lately, so I'm sorry for both being late, and maybe the tone of this chapter being weird. Just... THE FUTURE IS SO BLEAK AND DARK AND I have no idea what I'm going to do with my life.**

 **The usual.**

 **Please review if you have something to say, or if you liked it, or if you have suggestions or anything! ^^ Your support is always appreciated. Thank you very much for the reviews, favourites and follows from the last chapter. You guys are lovely, lovely people. Thank you again!**


	6. Resolve

When you're alive, just generally speaking, you kind of just muddle through with routines, structure and goals hoping for the best. No-one know what it would be like, right? No-one knows what the future holds.

One of my favourite things to say whenever I noticed myself getting a little too introverted was a cheerful reminder that _'you never know!'_ Why not chuck myself at that friendly, cool-looking, utterly terrifying group in the corner cracking jokes about my favourite game? _You never know_. No-one knows. It's why humans need structure in our lives – the utter freedom that we would have if we chucked all our values away is ultimately too stressful of an experience for most people.

Choices, my friends would laugh back in my past life. Too many of 'em, they'd complain, shooting snark about jobs, food, courses, movies, in a future that seemed set and utterly uncertain at the same time.

The utter irony now, of course, is that I _did know_ now. I knew a lot more of the future than any living person should ever know. Whatever Hohenheim did…

I listened the sounds of Joy preparing dinner in the kitchen, talking Winry through the process of making some sort of bean pie. The gentle clink of tableware nearly made me cry when I thought of Ed and Al now, how Hohenheim had enjoyed doing little things like set the table while Trisha cooked, sit down and watch another sunset while the boys played in the yard.

Hohenheim, and his incredibly resigned eyes.

Silly. Of course I knew what Hohenheim did. It's what he would do for Izumi, isn't it? In the future perhaps some ten years later. Izumi had coughed her guts (literally) out because Truth was both the embodiment of humanity and the lack of it – he'd hardly care about the finesse in his surgery of a _sinner_ who tried to trespass into his domain. Hohenheim had used his powers to shift her organs in a better state.

That morning with me, I think he did something more. I think he asked one of the millions of souls inside him to help me get some of my memory back, not just repair my brain.

Because instead of a gaping hole in my memory, I saw shadows.

Instead of choppy conversations, I think there was a flash of laughter in between my Uncle and my da.

And I heard a voice leaning against my bedroom doorway exclaiming, "Finish procrastinating and come down to watch Fullmetal with me!"

I clapped a hand over my eyes.

Yes. I had watched _Fullmetal Alchemist_ with my ma, didn't I?

My ma, who had paid a price for me so I… could do what?

 _What did you do, ma?_

I remembered Truth's task, of course. Gain back equilibrium. Hunt down an unnatural thing, that I now realise, is probably Father, Homonculus, the Dwarf in the Flask, Hohenheim's evil blonde twin. And Truth's burst of knowledge at the very beginning of my existence let me connect the dots now.

The Roman civilisation was Hohenheim's and Father's ruined alchemical empire, Xerxes, as Hohenheim had told me before. My mother, summoned because they needed more power – probably for their immortality alchemy, not just for her otherworldly ideas. Her, operating as some sort of eternal energy battery.

Obviously, the alchemic circle still occurred disastrously, or Hohenheim wouldn't be the man he was now.

Hohenheim had frankly told me, that afternoon where we had shared our pasts, that he didn't even know my mother existed. Which meant Father _had her soul._ And I had to save her. Because of Truth. Because she summoned me, accidentally or not. I'd internally snarked at how hard it'll be, but now I knew even more. How terrifying his reach actually was.

He controlled _all of the Central government_ , he had six inhuman, overpowered Homunculi loyal to him, an information network sensitive enough to kill Hughes the night he even started edging on the truth, and Mustang had to burn Lust an infinite amount of times for her to stay dead while still sustaining heavy injuries.

And I had to save her from that, because of Truth, because I was summoned… But most of all, because I _wanted_ to.

Ma must have been so scared, for those hundreds and hundreds of years.

I took a moment to breathe.

… _I_ was so scared.

Baby Marlon's body isn't healthy. Not at all. I could hardly climb up our hill with Winry holding my hand going at a moderately sedate pace. My arms were thin, frail twigs because I had trouble keeping things down sometimes, and Amestris was currently rationing food because of Ishval. My bones were fragile because of all the medicine I ate to survive.

"Alchemy," Izumi had recited, kicking ass even with her eyes on her book as the boys tried their best to land their kicks, "requires a strong foundation."

Yeah, I don't have that.

Though what I did have... Was all that stuff Truth paid for me, when I was still trapped in his domain as a soul. Alchemic facts. Now that I've regained my mind a little – Truth had butchered my _brain_ – I realised there was a lot of facts there that I just… They were mind bogglingly genius. Hohenheim hadn't just recovered some memories, he'd also wiped away a lot of haziness over the alchemical truths in my brain.

Like, I knew in depth about the temperature that sand turns into glass, common impurities, and how to predict its cooling times on a chemical level. I knew the fractals and crystallisation of ice so well I think I could pretend to be a certain snow queen, and I knew way too much about various molecular formulae for a girl who had liked physics way more than chemistry.

I knew how to use Ed's and Izumi's signature alchemy in the future, what he meant when he said that the human body was a circle. What Izumi meant when she says 'One is all, all is one.' We are the universe, but we also have a will (have a soul) and I _knew._

I could never use it in the open. Hand-clapping immediate alchemy that is.

One. Because my foundation wasn't there. That's a thing.

Two, and the most important one.

It's a sign of seeing Truth. _Father targeted Ed immediately after he saw him use it_.

If I tried circle-less alchemy right now, I can probably create a spark and destroy a chair before the power that alchemy is fuelled from would fry me into bits. Failed alchemy is horrific _for a reason_. And I was living with the deuteragonists of _Fullmetal Alchemist_. Once Ed revealed himself it would be stupid to believe Father wouldn't dispatch someone to investigate everyone around him.

My face twisted with this reminder.

 _Oh my god, I'm friends with the protagonists and best friends with their best friend._

 _Fullmetal Alchemist_ was not a kind world for people who knew alchemy.

Will I learn alchemy?

When I thought of the future, of what I had to face, what my dear friends had to face…

I wasn't a badass mom material like Izumi, not a decorated, strong military lady like General Armstrong. I wasn't a legitimate genius in something useful like Winry with automail, and I wasn't emotionally strong and dependable like Gracia. I wasn't collected and poised like Joy, or warm and loving like Trisha and Sarah. If I was any of these, I think I would've been more confident. But I was, I _am_ , something less than all of these.

A prodigy at ten, a genius at fifteen, a common man past twenty.

I can't become that. I _can't_. And the only cheat I had was a half-forgotten plot that may have changed because of my mother who had been summoned hundreds of years before me, and the knowledge Truth had paid me.

Alchemical knowledge. In depth, brilliant, scarily genius alchemical formulae. This, I could fake for as long as I needed to.

Will I learn alchemy?

I grit my teeth.

Of course I would. I _had_ to.

* * *

First though, was dinner.

Winry hadn't left for Pinako's, shuffling her chair as close to mine as possible while eating small bites of her pie. Joy looked for all like she was taking healthy forkfuls and swallowing them with nearly military precision without caring for our side of the table at all. I used the side of my fork and sliced my own pie into bite-sized pieces, before pulling them apart by the filling and lying the pie so all the bean parts were facing towards the ceiling. And only then did I start eating.

Bite. Chew. Pick up another piece. Continue.

I paused a little between bites. Joy immediately looked up.

"Do you need water?"

"Yeah, thanks Joy."

Joy got up and went to the sink with my cup, which was still half-full of water. Winry looked small and shrunken in her own chair, shuffling towards me because she knew something was wrong, but she didn't know _what_. She only knew that I was basically in a coma for three days, that although Joy and I cared for one another, we weren't close. She didn't know where this came from.

On Winry's face, I saw her sitting next to Riza.

" _I hate the military,"_ my best friend said, near matter-of-fact. Because Sarah and Yuriy would never come back. Only a few months before the Ishval war ends, they'd be killed by Scar for being too good, for believing in equality and fairness in all human beings.

Winry had always been prepared to come back to her childhood home, when her parents came back.

 _Oh, Winry_.

I drew her in a hug, in which she flailed in before settling down and hesitantly wrapping her arms around me back.

"Wh-what? Mal, what's happening?"

I shook my head and clutched her tighter, tears building for the kindness of Sarah and Yuriy, who I'd _known_. Yuriy loved teaching, loved his daughter, and loved encouraging me through my exercises. Sarah, who'd giggled every morning when she saw me and Winry curled up together, loved cooking and sharing all her kitchen secrets to anyone who'd lend an ear. Two kind, compassionate people who would take in a small sick girl and a slightly estranged friend into their home and share everything they had with them.

I'll be there for her, when the time came. When Winry and Pinako read their names in the obituaries.

Joy returned with the water, slowly, before sitting back across the table. I unwrapped myself from Winry, and nodded a thanks to Joy.

"I was just concerned for Aunt Sarah and Uncle Yuriy," I said half-truthfully. Winry, whose confused mind latched onto something she understood, immediately recovered a lot of her cheerful disposition.

"Don't be, Mal!" She nudged my shoulder with her own small one, the other already reaching out for some more of her pie. "I got another letter from them this morning! Mom and Dad found a safe place to treat people, so they say they're going to send even more letters soon!"

My heart clenched. They had settled down? Was it _that_ place? How many months has it been since they left?

I ate my pie near mechanically, noting that Joy's blank smile probably meant she was struggling how to parent such a strange child like me, and that Winry had gotten over this point in topic as only a child could. Letting Winry take the lead in the conversation and letting her wheedle Pinako over the phone so that she could stay over, we were quickly allowed ushered to bed after dinner, where I continued to let Winry's babble wash over me until she fell asleep. Listening to the clink of the dishes of Joy cleaning up from dinner, I was glad Joy chose to avoid the problem instead of confronting it – I now had time to _think_.

I was five. Winry was also five. However, I was older than Winry by around seven months – I was born in winter 1898, while she in spring 1899. I knew the Ishval War had started the year I entered Mini Marlon's body, which was when I was nearly three years old. 1901, then. Then I left the hospital after nearly a year, and spent the rest of my time in Resembool.

Now, it was summer, 1903.

In perspective, I've already been in this world for two years. It… didn't feel that long.

There are three things I know that happens within the Ishval War.

One. Hohenheim leaves. This has already happened. Literally happened a few days ago, so I couldn't have tried to chase him with this new information if I tried. He could be anywhere by now.

Two. Trisha dies of some sort of sickness. I remember the anime scene where Trisha looks slightly tired as she does her farm duties – probably harvesting her tomato plants, because I distinctly remember this dramatic shot of some of those tomatoes rolling across the floor.

But you can harvest tomatoes any time of the year if it's warm and moist enough? I groaned. What else?

It was a warm day. Maybe? Trisha was sweating, but then again, she was _sick_. What else? It was also a sunny day when Trisha collapsed. Was she wearing short sleeves? Long sleeves?

 _I don't know_. I don't remember.

My mouth flattened in a line of frustration, but I set it aside for now. There were no easy Vitamin C supplements or anything to easily keep up Trisha's immune system, but I remember Trisha not touching Hohenheim's cash for Ed and Al's future. Added to the stress of having her spouse leave, the farm, the town's gossip and Ed and Al themselves, all of that probably lead to her being more susceptible to being sick.

Three. The Rockbells die. Killed by Scar when he wakes up disoriented and angry. _That_ only comes about because the Ishval War officially dragged on for too long, and the Fuhrer ordered State Alchemists to take action. Didn't that signal the end of the war?

Mustang and Armstrong's backstories really hammered in how effective they were in the war – one click of a finger and a whole village was gone.

It was horrible to say it like this, but the Ishval War had only been going on for three years. I'm certain, _certain_ , that Ishval lasted longer than that. It wouldn't ten years long like the Cretan War or anything, but it definitely wasn't only three years. Father needed more death than that.

Next to me, Winry snored. She was a little bigger now than a year before, and her elbows were always in the most awkward of places when she slept.

I don't know when Ed and Al went to Izumi. Was it by the end of Ishval? During?

I moved Winry's elbow out of my face and snuggled in to hug her. As she slept like a log, all Winry did in return was roll until she was flat on her back, squashing my arm.

Her small face in the darkness was peaceful, slack as she started snoring slightly.

Hohenheim's already left. Trisha's death was vague as hell, and if the Rockbells wouldn't leave the Ishval front even after repeated government orders and threats of annihilation, what would a letter from a small girl, not even their daughter, saying 'you'll die' do? Winry herself had said the same, pleaded for them not to go for a whole night. They had been resolved to stay until the end.

All this knowledge, I chuckled wetly, and nothing I could do with it.

What an amazing person you are, Marlon.

* * *

Next morning, I had recollected myself. I hugged a worried Joy with a cheery 'Good morning!', and watched with some satisfaction when my words smoothed some of the pinched worry from her brow. Having left Winry to sleep in a little, I waved goodbye to Joy, who had to do an early morning call to someone in the village.

I settled myself on a rocking chair outside, and the summer was still hot enough to avoid too much morning wetness. With a spare blanket from the living room and three cushions, I curled up to stare out from the veranda to watch the finish of the sunrise. The only thing to be heard was the faint breeze winding through some long, near-yellowed grass.

I remembered past Marlon had talked about this to a lot of people. Listened to friends, family, peers, and felt it deeply herself some days, empathised other days – that feeling when even before you started anything, that feeling of bone-deep tiredness. The world was so large sometimes, and you were only so small. What to do? Some friends would ask her. What could be done?

" _Take a deep breath,"_ past Marlon would say. _"Take a deep breath, and make it smaller_."

What can I make smaller? What can I do, such as I am now?

Encourage Winry to write more. Maybe ask for her to ask if it's possible for them to visit sometimes, in the intervening years. Even soldiers take a break every few years. I don't believe that Sarah and Yuriy would refuse a request to come back for a few months every two or three years or so, even if it was only for Christmas.

My gaze turned to the top of the hill, and the morning silhouette of the wooden house, unassuming and full of happy memories.

Support Trisha. Invite her over more, maybe? When I get healthier, maybe I could help with harvesting, because my own guardian wasn't agriculture based. Make sure everyone was still eating healthy despite war rations. Keep an eye on the newspapers if there's any diseases going around.

For Hohenheim I had no clue, but that's alright. I can't track him down yet, but I think I knew of a way in the future.

Alain, my dad. Now knowing so much more, I have _suspicions._ Not on him. Never on him. On the situation though, on what forced him to bring me here, to Resembool, I had many.

But I think if he survives this war, if he manages it (and he _will_ , despite never hearing about him, despite never seeing his mild, intelligent face in any of my hazy memories even though he ranks relatively high), I think I will have much more support for things than I expected.

I put my suspicions to rest for now.

Now, it was time to greet the morning mess that was Winry, thundering down the stairs to dive into breakfast.

* * *

A few days later, when I was pronounced well enough to get out of the house, I watched Ed glare at Al, who was grinning over winning the race.

"No fair!" He yelled, pointing at the door of the barn. "You totally cut the corner, Al! When I wasn't looking," he added, glaring suspiciously at the barn as if it had some hidden trapdoors or secret exits that would allow Al to be half a step ahead of him when they raced.

" _Fwee fweeeee_!" I blew the kid whistle that Pinako had chucked at us when we had stormed over to her house mid-morning. "As the judge of this great race," I announced grandly, standing in the classic trainer pose with my hands on my hips, sun carefully placed behind my back for best effect, "I pronounce there was no cheating! Al wins!"

Al cheered while Ed continued glaring. "One more time!" He stamped.

"Brother, mom always said to be a good and sportsmanlike, even when you lose!"

Ed huffed. "What isn't sportsmanlike about challenging the winner again in a fair battle?"

"Because it's my turn now!" Winry stood up by my side, posing just like me with both hands on her hips, chest thrust out a little more, maybe. "Race you two to the tree and back!"

Winry, having a competitive streak as wide as Ed's, pointed to a random tree and started sprinting.

Both boys scrambled forward, as Ed shouted a 'that's not fair, Winry!' and Al's small of complaint of, 'but I'm starting to get tired…'

I stood on top of my small hill, watching them go, laughing to myself a little when I noticed Ed subtly crowding Al into Winry when they'd caught up so that they'd slow each other down.

"Squirts! It's time for lunch!" Pinako yelled from her porch, chewing an unlit pipe with her shrewd eyes narrowed in good humour. As I was closer, I trotted up to her first with a smile.

"Granny, what are we eating today?"

"Sandwiches," she replied, waving me off into the kitchen to wash my hands, "and milk." The last bit was said with a certain twinkle in her eye. Pfft. "It's good for him," Pinako said with a _'what can you do'_ tone, and I shrugged back conspiratorially.

Halfway through lunch, as Al and I played a word chaining game and Winry was holding up Ed's cup threatening to force him to chug it, Trisha dropped by. It was the first time since Hohenheim left that I saw her.

I wish it wasn't as visible as it was how Hohenheim's leaving had affected her. Her hair was still as well-kept as always, and her clothes clean and pressed. But it was in the slump of her shoulders, and the brightness of her smile that let on something was wrong, leading to closer inspection on how she looked wan, shadows starting under her eyes.

"Mom!" Ed and Al chorused, Al jumping out of his seat to give her a hug, while Ed forgot about Winry's threat and nearly toppled over when they both unbalanced, the milk dangerously sloshing over his head.

"Did you finish early, Trisha?" Pinako asked kindly, keeping one eye on Winry as she dropped back into her seat, letting Ed safely jump up and join Al in hugging one of her legs. Trisha's face softened into something more herself then.

"Yeah," she said, bending over to hug her boys better. "We did most of what we had to do last week, so…" She trailed off, visibly recollecting that Hohenheim wasn't there anymore. "So all I had to do was check the market and keep stock today."

Ed and Al weren't stupid.

When Trisha and Pinako were washing dishes in the kitchen, Winry helping with a bounce in her step, I saw Ed walk the other way, Al following. When they were safely in the living room two rooms away, I slipped in with them and closed the door behind me. Then I watched Ed throw an unfun tantrum. The kind that wasn't easy to defuse. The ones that were about problems like the postboy saying casual snide insults at everyone who weren't enlisting with every half breath.

"Why is dad not coming back?" He hissed with force, climbing on the couch and throwing a cushion onto the floor, hard. "It's been a week! No matter what he has to do, it shouldn't take so long!" It bounced and settled near my feet. Ed was an active kid, and he rarely ever had a neutral face. He was always glaring, or laughing, or annoyed, or joking. But right now, he was trembling as he turned away from Al.

"Brother…" Al tried before pausing. He stepped forward before stopping. "Dad probably just needed to go farther away, or something." He said, not very confident.

But they weren't stupid. One look at Trisha, and they knew. Trisha loved her husband, had every faith in him. If Hohenheim was merely on a long trip, she wouldn't _fade_.

I stood still near the doorway, looking at Ed's angry face.

I remember I had a friend, in my past life. Straight nose, red hair. She had kind brown eyes that had looked unwaveringly at her interlocked fingers when she told me this story.

She hadn't been as prodigal as Ed and Al. She didn't need to be. She was a normal child, in a large family made of aunts, uncles and cousins. She had been an only child. And when she was four her father had disappeared. One day, her soft voice explained, he just never came back home after leaving for work. He'd tied his tie, slipped on his shoes, kissed her forehead when she ran to give him a goodbye and never saw him again.

As much as her mother was a strong woman, and her family was supportive, her mother was never the same. My _friend_ was never the same. There had been no sign she could find when she wracked her memories, especially since she was so young. All she could remember was happy memories, and nothing about why he'd leave. For many years, there had been questions.

Was it her fault? Was it because she wasn't easy to love? Was it because her dad couldn't take being a father? Did she do anything wrong?

In the end, when she turned fifteen, her mother had shown her a letter that had come in the mail from an unidentified place. The letter, her mother explained, came a month after he'd left. In the letter, he detailed his problem with alcohol. His inadequacy. His problems with work. His stress. Excuse after excuse, she said, in the end saying 'sorry' and 'it's not your fault'. In the letter, he said he just needed to leave. It was the only solution. There was no way out. It was either that or death.

She, repeated slowly, was a four year old when he left. She had no expectations back on whatever that letter had said to excuse him, had thought him a perfect father. But death was preferable to her existence, apparently. She'd loved him, in the simple attachment of children, before he ran.

Then she had to grow up early. Realising that not all people were made to be responsible.

Now Al was lost against Ed's anger, because he was still stubbornly clinging onto the fact that Hohenheim might come back. But Ed, as idealistic as he was, I think had a creeping acceptance. He had never been the type of sweetness that would deny reality for something softer.

The boys had also loved Hohenheim. He'd been there to pick them up when they fell, to panic over their scratches. Cried when he took a picture with them. It was hard, to not love someone who had loved them so sincerely, even if he had been strange, eccentric and solemn.

"You don't get it, Al!" Ed yelled at Al, who looked unsure now. Ed rarely yelled at Al with anger.

"It's only been a week," Al replied weakly.

"A _week_ ," Ed snarled at him. " _Isn't that long enough?"_ Ed was generally more intuitive than Al, less optimistic and more sly than Al's sympathetic belief in humanity. For a man who had hardly left his house for all the years he's lived, and the moment he disappears his mother starts waning, looking out the window, knowing and _waiting_ —

A week to an adult was hardly a week to a child.

"Brother—" Al faltered, and I don't blame him. This would be hard, even for adults. And I suspect right now, if Ed kept yelling like this, Trisha and Pinako would come, and that wasn't what Ed needed.

But he did need someone.

I let child Marlon slip away and stepped in front of Al. Ed rocked back a little, as if he didn't realise I was there.

"Ed, don't yell," I said calmly, looking back at him.

"Don't tell me what to do! You're not part of this, Marlon. Go away!" He shouted back, and I only blinked in response.

"Then do you want Aunt Trisha and Granny to check on us?" Ed immediately went still, and I nodded. "I thought so." I stepped towards the couch and Ed looked at me warily. "What are you angry about, Ed?"

He looked at me with angry incredulity, waving his arms. "Weren't you _listening?_ _Dad's left!_ Didn't Winry tell you?"

"But why are you yelling at Al about it?"

Ed faltered on the couch, his anger going down a little before flaring up again. "He doesn't understand! He should! It's obvious by now. _He's not coming back_!" A tilt of my head at the door had Ed lowering the volume of his voice a little, but his frustrated frown wasn't going anywhere.

"And why are you angry?"

"Isn't that obvious?" He bit out.

"Why, Ed?"

"Ugh!" He grabbed and threw another cushion, this one hitting the wall before he wheeled back towards me, arms flinging out in emphasis. "Because mom doesn't smile anymore," he replied with heat, "because nothing we do really brings it back! Because yesterday in town, there were these aunts whispering things about mom and dad! I saw Pete's dad looking at us and I could hear him giving us that _look_ , saying "poor boys" like it'll make us _feel better!_ And, and…" The more Ed continued, the more his voice got clogged, and I stepped forward, close enough now that my knees were touching the couch. He looked down at me, golden eyes reluctant to water, welling up. I looked up at him, and saw a young child. My heart _hurt_. " _And fathers are supposed to stick to their families_."

There were a few moments in the living room then, where only our breaths sounded, a bare backdrop to the warm fittings of Pinako's lounge.

"Yes, they are," I agreed.

And Ed's face crumpled.

I immediately climbed onto the couch then, and drew him down so we were both sitting, curling him in until he latched all on his own, burying his face in my shoulder as I wrapped my arms around him.

"It doesn't make sense!" I heard, muffled in my shoulder.

"No, it doesn't," I replied.

"He loved mom so much!"

"He did."

"I thought he loved _us!"_

"Of course he loved you and Al."

"Then why did he _leave?"_

I paused.

"Someone else's choices, Ed," I said, crooking my chin over his shoulder, "are never your responsibility. It's never your fault. It's not Al's fault either." I listened to Ed's valiant effort to sniff all the snot back into his nose, and I made my hug a little tighter, hand patting his spine. "When someone makes a conscious decision that affects others, they're responsible for what happens. Hohenheim leaving wasn't your fault, and you can't do anything about it."

My voice was soft, in the summer air. "But it works the same for you too. You can't control your dad, but you can control yourself. It's totally natural to be angry, Ed, for him leaving you. Fathers aren't supposed to do that. Loving your mom and wanting to protect her is a beautiful thing too. But anger won't help you now, as you know." I stopped for a little, giving his back a few more pats. "You know what you should do. Could do instead."

It took maybe a few more silences before Ed pulled away from me, his eyes having started to redden as he furiously wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"You're not my mom."

"No," I smiled. Ed was starting to go red from embarrassment, but he'd always been such a good kid.

"I'm sorry, Al," he muttered to the right, where Al had watched all of this with a sort of stiffness that screamed _I don't want to be noticed_ and _oh my gosh I can't leave_.

"It's, it's fine brother!" Al nearly shouted that back. Just in time, I heard Winry's footsteps heading towards the living room, and Ed tensed up, obviously not ready yet. Al took it as his way out. "I'll, uh, I'll go distract Winry!"

His quick escape as he opened and slammed the door shut was kind of funny after all of that. But I couldn't disrespect Ed by laughing. I waited patiently now, as Ed sniffed and scooted a little more away from me. After one last quick wipe of his eyes, he glared at me.

"You never tell anyone I did that!"

"Of course," I agreed.

" _Never!"_

Getting Ed puffed up usually gives me life, but this time I put one arm over my chest while I stuck out my other hand with my pinkie out.

"Cross my heart and hope to die. And also, pinkie promise."

Ed quickly shook his pinkie with mine.

"Okay, it's done. You can never break it now!" He hopped off the couch, and raced to the door. Just before he left, he turned around. "Thank you," he mumbled, eyes on the wall somewhere close to my general location. He was starting to go red up to his ears. Ah, boys.

"Any time, Ed," I replied, and watched his back run down the corridor, feeling warm.

Hohenheim had left with a nobler purpose than my friend's dad did of course, and it would eventually save millions and millions of lives. But rarely do actions and intentions ever play out perfectly. I blinked at a diagram of automail Pinako had in the living room in lieu of art, thinking of my own parents. Both sets of them, and was personally glad that I was born to them, happy I was loved in both worlds.

Then I let child Marlon slide back onto me again when Winry's feet pattered down the corridor again.

"Marlon, come on," she insisted from the doorway, and I hopped off the couch and hurried to her, letting her grab my hand in her own as she tugged me as she was wont to do. "Everyone else is there already! Aunt Trisha bought a cake from the bakery! They're going to cut it soon!"

While I was basking in the taste of some cream cake, a worried Trisha asked Ed about his slightly puffy eyes. While both Ed and Al tensed up like the bad liars they were, I swallowed down my bite and said casually, "Ed was just a really sore loser when I beat him on a game of checkers."

"You never beat me in checkers!" Ed instinctively retorted, stabbing his fork into his cake.

…I mean, it was true. Sadly. This fact hurt my soul, sometimes. _I couldn't beat a game of checkers against a five year old_.

"See?" I shrugged instead, wishing that Ed realised what a sacrifice of my ego I was making for him.

Trisha gave the topic up with a laugh, and Ed gave me a totally obvious eye saying _thanks bro_ , and I just shook my head.

Judging from my memories, he never really does learn subtlety, does he?

* * *

 **Man, it's been awhile. Ahaha… sorry ._.**

 **The thing is, a lot of career stuff got shoved in my face, and I got half-convinced that writing wasn't a path to choose. I mean, I love writing, but sometimes I don't write particularly well? XD But I missed it so much, and there were still some reviews from my other fic that were so nice and I was like… STUFF IT. Screw the world! A few hours of writing never killed anybody! I'm thinking of starting a blog or something, just for somewhere to keep a few original stuff going on, idek.  
Sorry for any new readers, please ignore me. I don't even really expect many people to read this anymore, hehe.**

 **So here I am, with renewed resolve to write :] I'm going to try my best to continue, I'm a bit rusty now, to my utter sadness.**

 **I hope this was an enjoyable chapter. Fullmetal is a fun fic to write, because the story is so tight, and the characters are so well-fleshed. It makes it challenging but very satisfying. I'm still half-deciding what type of alchemy Marlon should focus on. Hmm.**


	7. Decisions

When I came here, Winry, Ed and Al had always been a unit. Even when I got added to the mix, with children being who they were, once they decided to like me it was an instant _click_ as if they couldn't imagine a life that didn't have me there in the first place. Ed had warmed up to me last though, and because of that, I'd always been a smidgen bit closer to Al and Winry than he had been.

After that afternoon, something shifted.

It was so natural that it was Winry who noticed first. After a solid month – we were now fully integrated into the heat of summer, sweat sticking to our backs and many town-faces gone because they were taking in the harvests or taking care of animals – there had been a distinct change in my life.

"Mal," Winry said, with her eyes narrowed, "Ed's talking to you a lot more recently, hasn't he?"

I shrugged. "I think it's because he wants to bounce alchemy ideas off more people than Al?"

Lately, since Winry was now down the road away with Pinako, she took a little more time to come to our usual haunts than us three, who were still living in the outskirts of the town on the grassy fields opposite the farms. Pinako lived even more far away and didn't usually move from her house, so sometimes Winry wouldn't bother coming around, and I would be the one to trot over to listen to her babble about how Pinako got a whole box of rare bolts that had been shipped specially over from Rush Valley, look, it's so _cool_.

Some days, I couldn't walk the trip, because of the heat or other reasons, and on those days, I joined Ed and Al mutter over alchemy books. One, because learning alchemy from a book, and not a mysterious fount of knowledge in my brain, was fun (since I understood everything already – if I didn't, I think I would have already flipped all that math out the window), and two, because they would be a great alibi for _how_ I would flourish into an alchemy genius in the next few years.

It had been soon after our conversation that Ed and Al found that meddling with alchemy would make their mother laugh and smile again. Then they quickly shifted into showing _us_ their impressive achievements.

With a sharp _crackle_ of visible energy and an instant shift of the floor's mass, a tiny little wood bird stood in a small indent of the floor. Ed and Al then proceeded to grin smugly at us two girls still standing near the door.

Winry squinted and pointed out that the bird's wings were lopsided, while I was inwardly awed that these two boys, not even in the first year of school yet, could achieve an alchemic reaction that most people would have after 2 years of solid study.

Then I decided to put this situation into use.

"I'll fix it, Winry," I said, walking over to the boys and the tiny little bird growing from their floor. After squinting at the white runes in the circle to see what dimensions the boys had inputted (that's where the calculations went – right inside the white of the circle) I licked my finger to smudge some chalk, ignored Ed's squawk as I plucked his chalk straight from his hand and calibrated the volume, height, and thickness of the bird's left wing tip. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, to analyse someone else's alchemic circle, but I forced myself to look as nonchalant as possible. _This is the level of genius you need to fake, Marlon. Get used to it._

Then I clapped my hands to floor, willing it to activate. The source of desire, the miracle of life. The very force of determination for things to change. The only thing that Truth cannot calculate… Free will. I held my breath, not knowing, some nerdy back part of my brain kind of squealing over doing something that was basically a superpower.

In the end, it was easier than I expected.

The energy sparked from my hands to burn around the circle towards the centre as the transmutation crackled in my hands, and the left wing tip grew more rounded, becoming symmetrical.

All three of the children's eyes went wide

"There," I said, clapping my hands as if I didn't manufacture the situation for this exact reaction. "That should do it."

"Mal, you know _alchemy?"_ Winry squeaked, the first one to recover. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ah, I've never tried it before," I replied, looking at the boys in amusement at their flabbergasted faces. "But sometimes when I get tired, I come back into the house and these books are pretty interesting?" I put a hand in front of my face and did a faintly embarrassed ' _hoho'_ laugh, winking at Al's dropped jaw.

Hohenheim coded his alchemy notes just like any other alchemist, of course, but it honestly wasn't that hard to crack as it was themed on common things you could see in the Elric house. It was a few days' work to get used to his code, and read through his interests – the study of alchemic soul work and the construction and deconstruction of general physical matter. There were also less specialised, printed alchemic journals lying around that was written in plain English too that helped the image that I was trying to create. I had scanned through them, and with a pen had made some random, relevant notes on the margins if Ed and Al ever wanted to check if I've read through them.

"You read my circle!" Ed accused, but his voice was more incredulous than angry. "Wh-wh-what?"

"You're so smart, Marlon!" Al clapped instead, and I suppressed an squirm with a firm hand and cheerfully shrugged, giving the chalk back to Ed and winding an arm with Winry's again.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked Winry, and I think a small thing behind her eyes eased when I didn't go to the boys.

"No," she said, swaying me along with her when she rocked on her heels, "but tell me next time! Don't keep secrets from me," she pouted.

I nodded, knowing at most this promise can be kept halfway. But that fifty percent I would protect.

"Screw that, Marlon!" Ed scrambled up and got in my face then, and I flinched back a little. "Tell me where I drew the circle wrong! I don't get it!" He pulled me forward, and I pulled Winry with me, and us four all huddled over the tiny floor bird. And then I started pointing out the bits I changed, and we talked until Trisha came in calling us to lunch.

Afterwards, Winry always became vaguely suspicious when I went to Ed and Al's house. She always had the funniest _I-got-my-eye-on-ya_ look on her face when I discussed what I did when she wasn't around after her customary automail gush.

"But you're _my_ best friend, got that?" Winry said imperiously, all commanding in her white dress and sun-tanned skin and childish pettiness and I nodded along with a grin. "Ed and Al are best friends too, but we're _more_ best friends!"

Ah kids.

"Always and forever," I promised again. "Anyway, Ed has nothing on you and you know it."

"Duh," Winry laughed back, before leading me to her tiny work room that Pinako had given her with some mechanical puzzles that Pinako had built for her.

…To be honest, I wasn't the best at spatial puzzles. Blueprints are okay, but puzzles boggle my mind more than a little before I could solve them after I analysed them piece by piece. Winry however would saunter over and pick them up and to solve them in a flash, while complaining that Granny wouldn't let her go at the real ones.

"Wow, you're amazing, Winry!" I gushed, picking at the interlocking metal chain thingies that she just twisted apart and twisted together again. She must have such amazing spatial memory and logic. And I don't know. I've only been here for a year, and she's, they've, they've grown up _so much_. Times were already starting shifting and changing. I was going to move forward with Ed and Al – even try to keep maybe a step before them for as long as possible. But I didn't want to leave Winry behind. I tilted my head up and narrowed my eyes at the ceiling, adjusting my smile while Winry continued to tinker with her puzzles with mulish grumbles. I looked down.

"Do you think you'll go into automail like Pinako, Winry?" I grinned, locking her arm with mine to distract her from the puzzles a little.

"Ummmm…" Winry blinked up at me, startled. "It's interesting but dad always told me to take a little more time before I decide. Automail is really hard but you can still apprentice for it whenever and Granny says she can teach me sooooo…" Winry shrugged. "Dad said to go to school first! I shouldn't just decide to do what I see around me he told me."

Heh. "Yuriy is a good father," I nodded, before leaning into Winry again, watching her tinker with a small clock, falling a little asleep.

"You're still getting over that summer cold, right?" Winry asked me, a small little worrying hen, carefully bumping her shoulder up and jostling me a bit. "I have a few cushions if you wanna lie on the bench!"

 _Pfft_. There was a couch right outside in the living room, silly, with blankets and cushions and a few of her stuffed toys.

"Sure," I rolled along with it, and that afternoon and evening was spent at Pinako's when she tutted at me actually curling up on Winry's bench, and Winry crawled up alongside me shoving all her stuff away talking quite seriously that if she was a Princess, then Al and Ed would argue so much that they couldn't possibly be Princes, and that if I decided that I wanted to be the wicked witch she'd probably just make friends with me and appoint me court wizard after she returned to her castle. That casual dismissal of the boys being any sort of useful to her metaphorical rescue gave me the giggles again.

You do you, Winry.

Dinner was lovelier than usual, with a bit of salted lamb with rosemary and some buttered rolls with Pinako's home-grown vegetables on the side. I practically inhaled the vegetables because both Joy and I were bachelors from the city who knew crap all about growing vegetables. All our attempts died on us despite our friend's greatest efforts. Joy joined us a little later with her contribution to dinner, some sugar-pickled fruits that we had made together a few weeks back trying to make use of the last bits of our sugar. Dinner was a warm affair, because once Pinako decided that you were hers, she'd yell any sort of awkwardness out of you.

In the end, Winry cheered me on as I tried to stuff as many tiny fruits in my mouth as possible, while Pinako just grunted a laugh and challenged that she could totally do _more,_ stuffing her own face, and Joy face-palmed before revealing the second jar she'd brought over (she secretly approved, the enabler).

Then I nearly choked when I tried to chew it all down. Oops.

* * *

"You've already missed two and a half terms, Marlon," Joy looked at me from the doctor's office in the clinic, as she inspected my lungs. She listened to the stethoscope carefully before continuing. "The school understands your health problems, and I'm sure you can catch up because I've been home-schooling you when we have time but…"

Since I was five, I should've started school like most of the village kids. But winter brought pneumonia, spring was promising until I keeled over from mild hay fever that wasn't really the problem until it stuffed my breathing, summer brought a nasty cold and who knew what would come in autumn.

"Resembool only has two classrooms for younger and older kids, right?" I asked, pulling my shirt back down with a shrug.

"You thinking to go with your friends?"

Ed and Winry were only a year younger than me, anyway. Al had to wait a little longer, but considering Trisha's single mother status and increased duties, I had no doubt he'll just drag himself along.

"Yeah. Winry will take care of me."

Joy conceded at that. "Winry does care a lot about your health," she nodded.

School in the town had four terms, one for each season, though students usually joined the school either in the winter (there was little to do) or summer (the kids were too small to help with harvest) terms. However, I had missed them both. Baby Marlon's body was definitely much better than when I inherited it, but it was still very weak. Some days I could climb the hill all by myself, before another shift in the seasons came, someone coughed in my direction during a cold snap, or the air got too dry and a whole cascade of irritations would come up and I suddenly had to stay hobbling around the house with Winry, Ed or Al propping me up.

Man. I never really appreciated immune systems did back in my previous life, but I totally do now.

"I don't mind getting home-schooled until I get absolutely better," I added.

Joy gave me an uncertain look before making an inward decision, face becoming peaceful again. Her fierceness and determination that I'd observed from her had never dimmed, only tucked away in this strange period of her life where she had to take care of her sister's child in the countryside. I think she was only twenty-five and I've noticed a few young suitors coming up to be rebuffed by her most professional smile.

Ah, youth.

"I'll make sure you're up-to-date, but the moment you can go to school, you'll enter," she decided.

"Okay," I shrugged, not really having any sort of opinion.

Autumn came, and the cold winds blew in a dry cough that made me hack out bloody phlegm. Winry came down to talk about her joining school with Ed, Ed quibbled alchemy with me, and Al made a point to hunt around the fields to bring me something cute each time he visited while we rode this bout of sickness away together.

School was shelved for later.

* * *

Throughout all of this, I kept an eye on Trisha (waned a little but steadied. Pale, but got healthier with time and letters from Hohenheim. With me nagging Ed and Al, she ate better too. All in all, on track), framed my alchemic process against Ed's, and kept abreast of the situation outside of the sleepiness of Resembool as best as I could.

Sarah and Yuriy sent letters that were scarcer and scarcer as the Ishval front grew more brutal. Knowing Dad Alain was also there, I wasn't surprised to see the few letters he sent also slowly trickled down. Since I wasn't actually a child, I didn't worry about him not loving me or forgetting about me (two of Joy's worries) but instead what was happening to him.

Baby Marlon, his child, was his _reason to live_ in this chaotic time. Things must be very hectic for him not to even have time to scrawl out a small note.

I did miss him though. I'd grown out of the small blue dress he'd gifted me before he left, no matter how stunted my growth had been. I wore a light cotton blue dress similar to Winry's customary white now, simple to make, easy to clean and mend. The _Floppy_ books were lovingly placed on the centre of my shelf still, right next to my music collection.

People were still sniffing around to see if Aerugo was supplying weapons to Ishval, Creta apparently broke out into both a civil dispute and a desperate fight against Amestris for a border town all at once. Ishval's fighting spirit only got larger the more time went on, and the battle there was more bloody than the western Cretan war and Aerugo's southern border combined.

I'd heard Creta trying to reach out to Drachma, a _huge_ national power up north, to forge an alliance, but that thankfully fell through.

Ah, politics. I carefully marked down the power shifts and the deaths in my journal, alongside daily anecdotes of my daily life. Ed secretly shucking his bottle of milk into one of the bowls for stray cats in town again. Winry successfully repairing the small clock she was tinkering with for the past week. Al finding me different shaped leaves to press and make into bookmarks.

All in all, I felt like I was living in a slice-of-life story. Nothing was happening. I was growing up _so slowly_.

* * *

I turned six in the winter with not so much as the pneumonia from last year, but the continuation of the racking dry cough that didn't stop from autumn. That stopped schooling, but didn't stop everyone I knew from throwing a rad party for me in the snowy depths of it.

"Happy Birthday!" Everyone clapped around a table with a veritable feast of food at Pinako's. Pinako was happily serving everyone alongside Joy, while Trisha tended to us kids to tuck us in and make sure everyone wasn't quibbling over unequal servings. I asked for a group photo of us all that Pinako proudly stuck onto her photo board. In the dining room with a few handmade decorations, Trisha and Joy stood smiling at the back, Pinako to the left patting a happy Den, and Winry slung on both Ed's shoulder and my own, as Al held my hand.

Time flew. What else was there to say?

In Winter, the kids started school, I learnt at home, and we all did homework together.

Spring came, summer came. Ed and Al complained about how easy the work was and did secret alchemy circles in class. Winry struggled with English, which I was glad to help her with, but did absolutely amazingly in math. They had funny stories of their fellow students – a few farmer's sons and daughters, townsfolk kids, kids they warned me to be aware of when I went to school with them ('Of course,' Ed would say then, puffing his chest out, 'I'd be there to save you if you did bump into them!') and all and all school sounded absolutely the same as my previous life, only smaller and rural. I was kind of glad I was missing a few years, actually, when I heard all the young school pettiness going on.

Of course, I dutifully cheered Winry on when she reported on how she had an ongoing playground war against this girl called Amy, who had called Winry 'piglike' just because she tussled with the boys one time in the mud. "Apparently," Winry told me, "Amy has a crush on _Ed."_ She looked so aghast as she said this that I burst out laughing.

Wait until you're married to him, darling.

Country life whirled on its routines, waking by dawn, sleeping by night, and the more time passed and saw Trisha fine, the more I relaxed. The more I wondered - Truth had mentioned Fate, and its course having changed. Maybe... maybe fate had changed enough, that Trisha did not need to die. That Ed and Al wouldn't do human transmutation, and I...

I would need to face Father alone with Hohenheim. Without them. Without all the allies that they made. Mustang's team. The Armstrongs. The whole Northern Army. Izumi, Ling, Mei, Greed.

(and my heart twisted, selfishly, selfishly scared).

So we lived, healthy, happy. Golden days that would be recollected with absolute surety of our happiness.

Then, in a muggy late summer, a plague broke across the country.

Something eased in my chest when the first card of fate fell.

* * *

It started small, apparently. On the Southern Eastern border, near the Aerugo conflict.

"Cole's cousin, you know, the one living in Shefford… he caught _that_ fever."

Accompanying Joy to the markets, the aunties there usually gossiped about that baby, or this family's kid, or the fluctuation prices of food nowadays. Mundane stuff I would hear in my old world too, whenever housewives got together. But this week it was completely different, it was all hushed, worried whispers instead.

"Yeah, I know," said Mrs Cooper, who ran an inn that kind of had an atmosphere of a pub or a tavern since they served most of the alcohol to be found in Resembool. She had large lips that only helped her smile to become more welcoming. "Marie's kid, sweet little Shelly, you know how she moved west to avoid the conflict… Her daughter was the one that always wears her hair in pigtails…" After a murmur from her companion, she bobbed her head. "Yeah, she died just a few days ago. Marie was distraught."

The next week, there was an influx of people on the trains, staying at the few inns and hostels near the station. Bustles of packed, relatively well-to-do looking families who moved in droves down the train-line, Resembool only one of the many stops on their journey to East City, which was apparently still clean.

Joy watched with cold eyes, grasping my hand and walking me quickly away from the increased hubbub of the town. We picked up some of the fruits available from some extra cash Joy had, before rushing back.

"People are scared," Joy just said tersely, as she ordered more expensive stocks of medical supplies. "They're just spreading the disease by moving. _Idiots_ ," she scoffed, slamming her ledger down and pulling her hair back. "Plagues sometimes only become plagues because people react this way. What absolute _idiots_. Why isn't there quarantine yet?"

Then she rolled her eyes to herself while I kept myself still, sat on the bed of her clinic. "Of course, not enough deaths. _Urgh_ ," she grumbled, before promptly calling Trisha and Pinako to not go near the town as much as possible for the next week or so.

"Just in case," she assured me.

The next week, Trisha had to accompany a supplier to another town. Ed, Al and Winry had all heard of the 'killer disease' that's blown around Central, South, and the East at school, children happily sharing exaggerated stories. Ed and Al even had this half gleeful gossipy, half horrified awe when they told me all about how everyone who contracted this disease had a fifty fifty rate of dying!

The rate wasn't actually that high, but it was risky enough.

Trisha came back after a few days, looking fine. A few deaths had been reported in the inns in Resembool. Some of these cases had been transported all through town into Joy's clinic with harsh raps on our door. Joy promptly banished me to Pinako's house, who gladly took me in. Deaths were reported in some of the Resembool townsfolk, while newspapers had glaring titles like ' _Plague spreads across East City!'_ and _'Death toll of Mysterious Disease Rises!'_

The next week, the consequences of so people's sickness started showing – a lot of farm hands and helpers couldn't help with the last harvest of the season, leaving farmers like Trisha to have a greatly increased burden.

Ed and Al tried to help, they told me over the phone in our chats, but they couldn't reach many of the ones on top of the vines. Trisha looked increasingly harried, making Ed and Al worry as well.

My account of all of these were only through word-of-mouth. I wasn't allowed anywhere near the situation because of my immune system.

So I sat and felt _helpless_. Helpless, powerless, alone, relieved, and selfish.

Then, after a whole torturous month, my worst fears arrived.

On the last week of summer, Trisha Elric contacted the Great 1904 Plague, one of only many thousands of victims.

And I knew, as sadness took over me, as relief mixed through it all.

On the first day, Ed and Al panicked and immediately ran down the hill to call Joy, who had already been overworked. Joy had rushed up as immediately, setting the collapsed woman back onto her bed and rousing her into consciousness. She immediately gave Ed and Al prescriptions, and called Pinako over to tend to Trisha while she continued to work in the clinic, promising to rush back up with any changes. I wasn't allowed over there, told to 'take care of Winry' while Pinako pulled on a determined expression and rushed out.

On the second day, Ed and Al visited us, saying that all Trisha had been dreaming about was their dad. They planned on hitting the post-office for all the places where he'd sent letters, planning to send their own to track him down.

"Here's a list of numbers," Ed had run over on the third day, a mask covering his face. "Al and I are going to send letters. Can you help?" His golden eyes burned over his surgical mask, little hands leaving the papers he shoved in my hand sweaty and creased. I forwent all the warnings Joy gave me and hugged him, tugging his face into my shoulder even if I was still the scrawniest of them all. I made a point to keep hugging him until he relaxed.

"I'll call every single one of these people," I replied after I released him and Ed did his usual complaining about _'not needing hugs!'_ "I'll call you after I finish, okay?"

That whole day, I spent racking up Pinako's phone bill. Number, after number, after number. I sat there from breakfast to dinner, dinner until sleep, dialing for even a shadow of their father.

"Did you see this man?" I would ask after perfunctory greetings, before describing Hohenheim's appearance.

"No," they would invariably reply, "I don't think so."

Some would say yes, before saying, "He left a few weeks back, so I'm not sure."

One person replied, deep into the night. "Yes, but he left yesterday."

I promptly scribbled down that name (all the way in the west, literally across the _country_ ) and thanked the man.

Al squealed on the phone next morning, excited at my news.

"Thanks, Mal!" He yelled excitedly over the phone. "I'll tell Brother right away! At least we know where he is now, we'll send a letter everywhere around there!"

In the end, all I could do was watch the two boys slowly grow less energetic. Slowly sadder, more desperate, as letter after letter was sent, and after a week, letter after letter was returned.

Trisha held on for a week and a half, before Joy ran up the hill on Wednesday, at sunset. From 4:00 PM to 9:00 PM they managed to get her fever down to a manageable level, but she was already too burnt out. The fever had taken her exhaustion, her stress and used it as fuel to burn away her way to live.

' _Hohenheim_ ', she would murmur under her breath, looking out the window towards town.

Apparently after saying her goodbyes to Ed and Al, she looked out the window and apologised to Hohenheim. For not being strong enough. For not living.

Then Ed proceeded to smash everything breakable he could reach in Hohenheim's study while Al cried over Trisha's corpse. Pinako found the boys and gathered them, and now Ed and Al were in her house for the night, red-eyed, disbelieving, forced into a hot bath with a new set of clothes.

I wasn't really sad over Trisha's death as much as I thought I would be. I heard the news of course, in a distant sort of way. Seated at Pinako's living room, after Winry had rushed to bawl into Pinako's arms. I didn't even tear up when I hugged Al, because Ed had locked himself away in his given room, and Winry wanted to stay with Pinako.

Maybe it was because I'd already known.

"Mal," Al asked that night, as I hugged him to sleep. His arms were pudgy in a child's way, warm and lively, and Al had always been much nicer to hug than Ed. "Mal," he repeated, a small croak of a noise.

"What is it?" I asked back, quiet as I watched the moonlight through the window. Al wanted light today, so I didn't draw the curtains.

Al didn't say anything more except squirm until my arms loosened, drawing his borrowed blankets over the top of his head. Through the bed, I could feel him shivering.

I lay beside him, extending a hand underneath the covers that, a few seconds later, Al grasped tightly. Rearranging myself so that I was also warm, I kept holding Al's hand while pretending to sleep.

I was six, Ed was five. Ed joined the military at 12. He took a year to adapt to automail. 11. Mustang took half a year to a year to arrive at Resembool to find the Elrics. 10.

Despite everything I tried to do as a six year old, Trisha still died. Do I feel responsibility? I reflected.

No, not really. Circumstances dictate, and all. I could easily argue that, back in my old life, if I didn't donate or change my lifestyle or support some political reformation that millions of children would die of starvation. Was I responsible?

Most people would say no. Some would say 'generally speaking, but what can you do?'

What can I do?

…What do I _need_ to do?

I looked at the Alphonse, hidden in his huddle of blankets.

I could stop Ed and Al from doing human transmutation.

I _needed_ to rescue my mother's soul.

'… _Sorry, Al'._ I gently kissed the blanket where the top of his head would be and closed my eyes. ' _I'm not strong enough to do this alone'._ His palms were sweating uncomfortably now, and I could feel tears dropping between the clench of our fingers, warm and sticky. We lay next to each other, neither sleeping until dawn came and Al slowly creaked his fingers away from mine.

A new day had been born and in the next room, Ed was scrolling through all his memories for a solution, a cheat to this game, a way he could _win,_ a way to get his mother back _…_

And remembered human transmutation.

* * *

 **Still struggling to plough out writing, but here's my effort ohoho. I think writing is starting to get a litttlle smoother. Ish. Nothing much was happening, and I really needed to move forward. I think though, things will start moving very soon.**

 **Marlon has a very practical view on morality and how much one person can go. She's going to try her best but love and duty has always been an interesting subject in FMA, ahaha. The boys are going to feature a lot more prominently from now on, and I'm personally very interested in how she, and in extension, Winry will fit into a lot of this.**

 **Next chapter: school.**

 **'things will start picking up' author-kun said, only a few sentences before. (lies)**

 **Why do I always spend ten or so chapters to start a story, I have no idea ._.**

 **Thank you for the reviews last chapter! It really did make me happy. I spotted some old readers too :3**


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